Why Does My Muse Only Speak When

Into The Dark Night Resignedly I Go, I Am Not So Afraid Of The Dark Night As The Friends I Do Not Know, I Do Not Fear The Night Above As I Fear The Friends Below.

Oh, No No No, It Was Too Cold Always (still The Dead One Lay Moaning) I Was Much Too Far Out All My Life And Not Waving But Drowning.

If There Wasn't Death, I Think You Couldn't Go On.

See The Cat At Love, Rolling With Its Sweetheart, Up And Over, With Shriek And Moan. But If A Person Comes By, They Break Away, Sit Separate Upon A Fence Washing Their Faces - And Might Never Have Met At All.

These Thoughts Are Depressing I Know. They Are Depressing, I Wish I Was More Cheerful, It Is More Pleasant, Also It Is A Duty, We Should Smile As Well As Submitting To The Purpose Of One Above Who Is Experimenting With Various Mixtures Of Human Character Which Goes Best, All Is Interesting For Him It Is Exciting, But Not For Us. There I Go Again. Smile, Smile, And Get Some Work To Do Then You Will Be Practically Unconscious Without Positively Having To Go.