Note 252 — Chapter XXI · THE ANTHOLOGY.
Reading edition
Weep, reckless god; for now your hands are tied: Weep, wear your soul out with the flood of tears, Heart-robber, thief of reason, foe to pride, Winged fire, thou wound unseen the soul that sears! Freedom from grief to us these bonds of thine, Wherein thou wailest to the deaf winds, bring: Behold! the torch wherewith thou mad'st us pine, Beneath thy frequent tears is languishing!