A sad sad notion is held captive in my encephalon,
My island prison known as the brain,
Which is in the upper echelon
Of every vital *****.

Despite my determined mental exertion
Towards this difficult action,
Still on the impenetrable question
I stall;

And my poor dumb cranium
Does richly smart in frustration,
And my apertures of vision
Are filled with tears yet to halt.

And even if I one day straighten
The crooked mark out,
I am left then at a loss for the answer
That I want to gain right now.