I Am Ashes Where Once I Was

My Altars Are The Mountains And The Ocean.

No More We Meet In Yonder Bowers Absence Has Made Me Prone To Roving; But Older, Firmer Hearts Than Ours, Have Found Monotony In Loving.

In The Desert A Fountain Is Springing, In The Wide Waste There Still Is A Tree, And A Bird In The Solitude Singing, Which Speaks To My Spirit Of Thee

Critics Are Already Made.

I Have Always Believed That All Things Depended Upon Fortune, And Nothing Upon Ourselves.