Here the accursed poet lies, 
 Hid far from the pure blue skies; 
 Mixed with mud filth he lies 
 At the bottom of the strea 
 He dreamed many a strange drea 
 He loved mankind but he did nought 
 For mankind's goo Vain was his though 
 He would be loved and he was no 
 The sun in morn or evening glow 
 Can reach him not where deep he lies 
 With mud and filth far from the skie 
 He ached to feel, he ached to kno 
 He did aspire to what should last 
 Beyond the time that did it sho 
 Full of the giant city's waste 
 The river over him doth flo 
 Dark over him flows the rive 
 Down to him no light can g 
         Damn'd be he for ever!