I

"Poor wanderer," said the leaden sky,
        "I fain would lighten thee,
But there be laws in force on high
        Which say it must not be."

II

- "I would not freeze thee, shorn one," cried
        The North, "knew I but how
To warm my breath, to slack my stride;
        But I am ruled as thou."

III

- "To-morrow I attack thee, wight,"
        Said Sickness. "Yet I swear
I bear thy little ark no spite,
        But am bid enter there."

IV

- "Come hither, Son," I heard Death say;
        "I did not will a grave
Should end thy pilgrimage to-day,
        But I, too, am a slave!"
V

We smiled upon each other then,
        And life to me wore less
That fell contour it wore ere when
        They owned their passiveness.