The Old Enthusiasms Are Dead, Quite Dead, In Me; Dead The Aspiring Spasms Of Art And Poesy, That Opened Magic Chasms, Once, Of Wild Mystery, In Youth'S Rich Araby. That Opened Magic Chasms. The Longing And The Care Are Mine; And, Helplessly, The Heartache And Despair For What Can Never Be. More Than My Mortal Share Of Sad Mortality, It Seems, God Gives To Me, More Than My Mortal Share. O World! O Time! O Fate! Remorseless Trinity! Let Not Your Wheel Abate Its Iron Rotary! Turn Round! Nor Make Me Wait, Bound To It Neck And Knee, Hope'S Final Agony! Turn Round! Nor Make Me Wait.