A Man Of Eighty Has Outlived Probably

The Dome Of Thought, The Palace Of The Soul.

I Am The Very Slave Of Circumstance And Impulse Borne Away With Every Breath! Misplaced Upon The Throne Misplaced In Life. I Know Not What I Could Have Been, But Feel I Am Not What I Should Be Let It End.

I Doubt Sometimes Whether A Quiet And Unagitated Life Would Have Suited Me - Yet I Sometimes Long For It.

And Gentle Winds And Waters Near, Make Music To The Lonely Ear.

He Makes A Solitude, And Calls It - Peace!