Ah, Happy Years! Once More Who Would

Think'st Thou Existence Doth Depend On Time? It Doth; But Actions Are Our Epochs.

But 'midst The Crowd, The Hum, The Shock Of Men, To Hear, To See, To Feel, And To Possess, And Roam Along, The World's Tired Denizen, With None Who Bless Us, None Whom We Can Bless.

I Learned To Love Despair.

Such Partings Break The Heart They Fondly Hope To Heal.

My Days Are In The Yellow Leaf; The Flowers And Fruits Of Love Are Gone; The Worm, The Canker, And The Grief, Are Mine Alone!