LIFE WITHOUT HEALTH

Behold life builded as a goodly house

And grown a mansion ruinous

With winter blowing through its crumbling walls!

The master paceth up and down his halls,

And in the empty hours

Can hear the tottering of his towers

And tremor of their bases underground.

And oft he starts and looks around

At creaking of a distant door

Or echo of his footfall on the floor,

Thinking it may be one whom he awaits

And hath for many days awaited,

Coming to lead him through the mouldering gates

Out somewhere, from his home dilapidated.