It is not that I have not sought thy face
Ceaselessly through the world's eternal lie,.
More than all things and throughout every place,
Which having seen I were content to die.
But I have sought thee and I have not found;
Wherefore my soul is banish'd from delight,
And sitteth joyless as a madman bound
Seeing vain visions in the loathed night.
I know not even that I do not know,
But all things waver before me to and fro;
As one half head that would be dead I lie.
And thou, Death, if thy face be really fair,
I know not, or but renewal of vanity;
Wherefore mine eyes have seen the last despair.