"Thus with the year
Seasons return; but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer’s rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine:
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me: from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off; and for the book of knowledge fair,
Presented with me a universal blank
Of nature’s works, to me expung’d and raz’d,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out."