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Sabaoth
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Spleen
When the cold heavy sky
Weighs like a lid
On spirits whom eternal boredom grips
In day time darker than night's eclipse.
…and without drums and music
Long hearses pass by slowly
In my soul.
When the world seems a dungeon damp and small
Where hope flies like a bat in circles reeling
Beating his timid wings against the wall
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And dashing out his brains against the ceiling.
…and without drums and music
Long hearses pass by slowly
In my soul.
When trawling rains have made their steel-gray fibers
Look like the grilles of some tremendous jail
And a whole nation of disgusting spiders
Over our brains their dusty cobwebs trail.
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