Oh Nature, whence hast thou this beauty
Which impresses itself upon my senses,
But whose grandeur refuses to penetrate the depths of my darkened heart?
Cruel glory, you mock my pain.
You trod upon the brokenness of my being
And into the turbulent winds sling my soul to be whipped--
Back and forth, black for all I'm worth!
I shrink from you as the frozen man flees from fire.
There is malediction in your majesty.
For I find I'm a flea: tiny, minute, infinitesimally small.
    But by God, I'll prove a stubborn bug;
I will bite, and bite, and bite!
No sleep shall upon you now or any night.
What good shall your beauty bring you then,
When you share your sheets with one such as me?
You who once scorned my sorrow,
Where went your wagging tongue?