As wan, as chill, as wild as now;
⁠Day, mark'd as with some hideous crime,
⁠When the dark hand struck down thro' time,
And cancell'd nature's best: but thou,

Lift as thou may'st thy burthen'd brows
⁠Thro' clouds that drench the morning star,
⁠And whirl the ungarner'd sheaf afar,
And sow the sky with flying boughs,

And up thy vault with roaring sound
⁠Climb thy thick noon, disastrous day:
⁠Touch thy dull goal of joyless gray,
And hide thy shame beneath the ground.