I walked among the tidal wails. In the suit of scarlet red: And steps seemed dark and bright. My hat was on its head, But I never saw myself, looked So wistfully at the day's end. I never saw myself, looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of stars Which people call the hope of eye, And at every cloudy vision Onto each foggy image that passed by. None did wring my hands, as do Those imbecile people who dare To try to rear the jerk Hope In the cave of black Despair: I only looked upon the blue. And Inhale the hopeful air. None did wring my hands nor weep. Nor did i peak or pine. But i breath the air as though it held Some healthful tedious, somewhat decline With open mouth i drank the hope As though it had been red wine! I along with all the other suffering That were trampling the other ring. Forgot wheather i had done something Noteworthy. i simply was dull amaz...