MANIA-OF-DOUBT

All things unto me are queries That from normalness depart, And their ceaseless asking wearies My heart. Things are and seem, and nothing bears The secret of the life it wears. All things' presence e'er is asking Questions of disturbing pain With dreadful hesitation tasking My brain How false is truth? How much doth seem Since dreams are all and all's a dream. Before mystery my will faileth Torn with war within the mind, And Reason like a coward quaileth To find More than themselves all things reveal Yet that they with themselves conceal.