Note 204 — Chapter XX
Reading edition
Mourning and care, regret and grief and pain, Within my heart all worldly joy have slain, Wherefore, apart, I make my moan and grieve That hope no more my anguish may relieve, For see how Fate to do me hurt is fain. Far less to sudden Death would I complain, Than life drawn out—nor ever joy again; But fancy leading phantoms in her train, For here, all day, all year long, I receive Mourning and care.
For complete poem see Baux's "Eglise de Brou," p. 66.