I am the broken dawn, the straggling day. 
Arrived again, but to no purpose led -- 
I see the world in mist before me spread, 
But find no answering, no well-lit way 

To where, again, the sun connects the pulse 
To things that matter; weighed down like a plinth, 
I stand unmoving in this labyrinth 
As nearly-dead as any who 

Convulse