I Ought To Be Thy Adam, But

My Dreams Were All My Own; I Accounted For Them To Nobody; They Were My Refuge When Annoyed - My Dearest Pleasure When Free.

The Agony Of My Feelings Allowed Me No Respite; No Incident Occurred From Which My Rage And Misery Could Not Extract Its Food.

I Leave A Sad And Bitter World; And If You Remember Me, And Think Of Me As Of One Unjustly Condemned, I Am Resigned To The Fate Awaiting Me.

Live, And Be Happy, And Make Others So.

The Air Of Fashion, Which Many Young People Are So Eager To Attain, Always Strikes Me Like The Studied Attitudes Of Some Modern Prints, Copied With Tasteless Servility After The Antigue; The Soul Is Left Out, And None Of The Parts Are Tied Together By What May Properly Be Termed Character.