SPRING 1793
Feeling! Life! Where did you go?
In this abyss through which I fall,
Now shadows force me to recall
Times that long ago did flow.
This darkened path that is my fate,
These clouds that cover me of late,
These veils which all my thoughts deprave,
This cold that chills my every vein,
This weakness—all serve to explain
That I’m already in the grave.