MANIA OF DOUBT

All things unto me are queries

That from normalness depart,

And their ceaseless asking wearies

      My heart.

Things are and seem, and nothing bears

The secret of the life it wears.

All things' presence e'er is asking

Questions of disturbing pain

With dreadful hesitation tasking

      My brain

How false is truth? How much doth seem

Since dreams are all and all's a dream.

Before mystery my will faileth

Torn with war within the mind,

And Reason like a coward quaileth

      To find

More than themselves all things reveal

Yet that they with themselves conceal.