Let us go hence: the night is now at
hand;
The day is overworn, the birds
all flown;
And we have reaped the crops
the gods have sown;
Despair and death; deep darkness o'er the land,
Broods like an owl; we cannot understand
Laughter or tears, for we have
only known
Surpassing vanity: vain things
alone
Have driven our perverse and aimless band.
Let us go hence, somewhither strange and cold,
To Hollow Lands where just men and unjust
Find end of labour, where's rest for the old,
Freedom to all from love and fear and
lust.
Twine our torn hands! O pray the earth enfold
Our life-sick hearts and turn them into
dust.
