The Dark Way

When first I knew this trouble of my days,
This unrelenting grief, I was like one
Who, suddenly made blind, walks not alone,
Nor yet for any other guidance prays,
But silent sits, conjecturing of the ways
That he must tread, the perils he must shun.
Unaided by the light of star or sun:
And as at length, with set and vacant gaze,

He rises, stumbles, stops, moves on again,
Trusting, withal, his feet a path have found,
Distinguishing the day from night, by sound;
So I, through tortuous paths no light makes plain,
Having less even than the blind man's faith.
With outspread hands, grope my dark way to Death.