Live Oak, with Moss, Leaf 13

                        IX.

Hours continuing long, sore and
          heavy-hearted, 
Hours of the dusk, when I withdraw to a
          lonesome and unfrequented spot,
          seating myself, leaning my face in my
          hands,
Hours sleepless, deep in the night, when I go
          forth, speeding swiftly the country
          roads, or through the city streets, or
          pacing miles and miles, stifling
          plaintive cries,