The dark pines by my window murmur low,
The wind sways sleepily
their summits hoar;
I hear them whispering
in monotone
Still the same tale—the
same forevermore.
"In a sad part of
earth we sprang to life;
In a sad land no
happiness can dwell.
We by the dim gray
mists are wearied out;
Our lives are drearier
than a prison cell.
