My Life had stood-- a Loaded Gun

An ill heart, like a body, has its more comfortable days, and then its days of pain, its long relapse, when rallying requires more effort than to dissolve life, and death looks choiceless.

... And then I heard them lift a box, And creak across my soul With those same boots of lead, again, Then space began to toll.

I cling to nowhere until I fall - the crash of Nothing...