The World. A Pseudological Fancy

Well has the world been named the World,--
From its whirlpool heart of worrying things
On circling tides incessantly curl'd
And hurried around in fate-whorl'd rings;
Well has the world been named the World,--
From its whirlwind soul on hurricane wings
Flapping Disquiet, for ever unfurl'd
Over its outgushing lava-springs;
Well has the world been named the World,--
From its whirl of sorrowful change, that clings
Like some poisonous tendril twirl'd
Round a man's spirit, jarring its strings.

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