Catharine of Arragon

So tired! so weary—
The race—has been long,
And the paths have been rugged,
The winds have been strong,—
And the heart it has weakened,
In tempests so strong.

Soul, thou art sick
With the fever of strife,
Of delusions of hope
That will poison a life,
Of a world that is foul
With the passions of life;

Of a world that is false,
Souls that are vain,
Of men with a conscience
Who live to give pain,
Of words from the fair that hide
Vials of pain.

Of minds that are blackened
With crime and with sinning,
That seek to ensnare.
I am tired of the spinning
Of these;—yes, so terribly
Tired of their spinning.

So tired! so weary—
Of men and of things,
Of the woes of a life-time,
That time ever brings;
Of the cares and the sorrows
That life ever brings!