I am! what I am who cares, or knows?
My friends forsake me like a memory lost.
I am the self-consumer of my woes;
They rise and vanish, an oblivious host,
Shadows of life, whose very soul is lost,
And yet I am - I live - though I am toss'd
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dream,
Where there is neither sense of live, or joys,
But the huge shipwreck of my own esteem
And all that's dear. Even those I loved the best
Are strange - nay they are stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes when man has never trod -
For scenes where women never smiled or wept -
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Full of high thoughts, unborn. So let me lie, -
The grass below; above, the vaulted sky.
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