名人诗歌|Taedium Vitae

Taedium Vitae

To stab my youth with desperate knives， to wear

This paltry^{1 age's gaudy2 livery，}

To let each base hand filch^{3 my treasury4，}

To mesh^{5 my soul within a woman's hair，}

And be mere^{6 Fortune's lackeyed groom7， - I swear}

I love it not！ these things are less to me

Than the thin foam^{8 that frets9 upon the sea，}

Less than the thistledown of summer air

Which hath no seed： better to stand aloof¹⁰

Far from these slanderous^{11 fools who mock my life}

Knowing me not， better the lowliest roof

Fit for the meanest hind^{12 to sojourn13 in，}

Than to go back to that hoarse^{14 cave of strife15}

Where my white soul first kissed the mouth of sin.