Mirth Is The Mail Of Anguish --

Just Girt Me For The Onset With Eternity, When Breath Blew Back, And On The Other Side I Heard Recede The Disappointed Tide!

To Possess Is Past The Instant; We Achieve The Joy, Immortality Contented, Were Anomaly.

How Much Can Come And Much Can Go, And Yet Abide The World!

I Am Nobody! Who Are You? Are You A Nobody, Too?

I Would Paint A Portrait Which Would Bring The Tears, Had I Canvas For It, And The Scene Should Be -- Solitude, And The Figures -- Solitude -- And The Lights And Shades, Each A Solitude.