Could I say what I think, could I express my every hidden and too-silent thought. And bring my feelings, in perfection wrought. To one unforced point of living stress.

And so again:

THE STORY OF SALOMON WASTE.

This is all the story of Salomon Waste.
Always hurrying yet never in haste
He fussed and worked and toiled all frothing
And at the end of all did nothing.
This is all the story of Salomon Waste.

He lived in wishing and in striving,
And nothing came of all his living;
He worked and toiled in pain and sweat,
And nothing came out of all that.
This is all the story of Salomon Waste.

And things begun and never ended,
And much undone and much intended,
And all things wrong yet never mended;
This is all the story of Salomon Waste.

Each day new projects did betray;
Yet each day was liked every day.
He was born and died and between these
He worried himself himself to these
He bustled, worried, moved and cried
But in his life no more's descried
Than two clear fact; he lived and died.
This is all the story of
Salomon Waste...