Withering

Dorling

They never sought him out to let him know


Withering, he stayed, growing weak


As if his flesh would burn out their eyes


His voice, wrench the ears from their heads,


And shatter their hollow skulls!


What hath he done, this creature, unknown


In character and stance


To be inflicted with such rage and fury?


Ah yes, to be unknown is to be frozen in


A barren vault of loneliness.