Let me not know how sins and sorrows glide Along the sombre city of our rage, Or why the sons of men are heavy-eyed.
Let me not know, except from printed page, The pain of litter love, of baffled pride, Or sickness shadowing with a long presage.
Let me not know, since happy some have died Quickly in youth or quietly in age, How faint, how loud the bravest hearts have cried.
