I Awoke One Day To Find Myself

For The Angel Of Death Spread His Wings On The Blast, And Breathed In The Face Of The Foe As He Passed; And The Eyes Of The Sleepers Waxed Deadly And Chill, And Their Hearts But Once Heaved, And For Ever Grew Still!

I Have No Consistency, Except In Politics; And That Probably Arises From My Indifference To The Subject Altogether.

Though Sages May Pour Out Their Wisdom's Treasure, There Is No Sterner Moralist Than Pleasure.

If Ancient Tales Say True, Nor Wrong These Holy Men.

Parting Day Dies Like The Dolphin, Whom Each Pang Imbues With A New Colour As It Gasps Away, The Last Still Loveliest, Till-'t Is Gone, And All Is Gray.