Thanks, Roethke

For when within the gentle ride
Of life, and sour sin begins to glide
Down my tethered spine, broken
And half-awoken, past the chagrin
nerves, past the open eyes
That are mine, I try,
I try (I do) to bend the breeze
Before it tests me,
Before my soul is lost,
Before the glittering seas
Are gone, and all my glee
Handcuffed, for that's the cost --
Leap and pause, reflect, dear Faust --
That is the blatant, bloody, beaten cost.