I can see no beauty here.

It is here no longer.

It is faded, like my life: wasted, worn.

Never was there Beauty here.

What, pray Stranger, have I become?

Was it for this, this sad end that I was born?

My breath falters now;

My rheumy eyes, yellow-rimmed,

And yet! And yet—I cannot turn my eyes away.

Even now, I remain transfixed,

Mesmerized, as hollow Death

Watches, holding a scythe to slice the Day.

This is all my memory.

This moment is all I am-

This moment alone, forever; forever gone, I fear.

I seem to hear an Echo-

Such a sad Voice haunting—

It answers with sweet sorrow to the Others’ near.

Great Goddess! Make this end!

What self-regarding thoughts once sent me

Blithe and bonny to my threadbare knees?-

What curse upon me thrown,

What woe? I never was a Rose,

And nymphs scorn my flower-corpse from the shadowy trees.