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What's is this weariness?
That leaves inert every limb, every nerve!

Deadened is the mind to sensations all,
Heavy and tired are the eyes with sleep!

How is it,
That fatigued out is my soul
And the vault of heaven resounds not
With the melody of my soul?

Wax-like melt the convictions firm
Oh! why hope of future too
Is receding fast like a star
Away and away from sight?

Thorns lie concealed in the dust
On life's road difficult
And strewn with impediments is my path.

How is it,
That my soul's lamp flickers fast
As these storms rage in the skies?
Ah, a reality, it is too grim
An illusion it can't be!

Forget it! shall I?
Or shall I weakened by weariness,
Sleep and swing on the chords of dreams
In the quiet woods of calm breath?

Or, abjectly surrendering to stark reality
Shall I rein in the soul?
(Which dormant lies already.)

Or shall I,
With all the might of the soul
Fight every movement of reality?

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