A New Pilgrimage, II

How shall I ransom me ? The world without,
Where once I lived in vain expense and noise,
Say, shall it welcome me in this last rout,
Back to its bosom of forgotten joys ?
Sometimes I hear it whispering with strange voice,
Asking, " Are we forever then cast out,
The things that helped thee once in thy annoys,
That thou despairest ? Nay, away with doubt !
Take courage to thy heart to heal its woes.
It still shall beat as wildly as a boy's."
This tempts me in the night-time, and I loose
My soul to dalliance with youth's broken toys.
Ay, wherefore suffer ? In this question lies
More than my soul can answer, and be wise.