Fourth and Last Part · LXXIV. The Song of Melancholy

Sunk from truth-insanity: mere fool, mere poet

In evening’s limpid air,What time the moon’s sickle,Green, ‘twixt the purple-glowings,And jealous, steal’th forth:—Of day the foe,With every step in secret,The rosy garland-hammocksDownsickling, till they’ve sunkenDown nightwards, faded, downsunken:—          

Thus had I sunken one dayFrom mine own truth-insanity,From mine own fervid day-longings,Of day aweary, sick of sunshine,—Sunk downwards, evenwards, shadowwards:By one sole truenessAll scorched and thirsty:—Bethinkst thou still, bethinkst thou, burning heart,How then thou thirstedest?—THAT I SHOULD BANNED BEFROM ALL THE TRUENESS!MERE FOOL!  MERE POET!          

The song turns to evening and the moon's sickle cutting down the day's garlands. The singer says he sank from his own truth-madness, and ends with the refrain 'Mere fool! Mere poet!'

Nihilism (all is empty)The singer sinks into evening weary of day and sunshine, banished from all truth.
Scholars, poets and the knowersHe confesses that a single truthfulness scorched him, leaving him only a fool and poet.