Well, I was tired of life; the silly folk, br The tiresome noises, all the common things br I loved once, crushed me with an iron yoke. br I longed for the cool quiet and the dark, br Under the common sod where louts and kings br Lie down, serene, unheeding, careless, stark, br Never to rise or move or feel again, br Filled with the ecstasy of being dead. . . . br br I put the shining pistol to my head br And pulled the trigger hard -- I felt no pain, br No pain at all; the pistol had missed fire br I thought; then, looking at the floor, I saw br My huddled body lying there -- and awe br Swept over me. I trembled -- and looked up. br About me was -- not that, my heart's desire, br That small and dark abode of death and peace -- br But all from which I sought a vain release! br The sky, the people and the staring sun br Glared at me as before. I was undone. br My last state ten times worse than was my first.