They Truly Mourn, That Mourn

He Who Grown Aged In This World Of Woe, In Deeds, Not Years, Piercing The Depths Of Life, So That No Wonder Waits Him.

I Live, But Live To Die: And, Living, See Nothing To Make Death Hateful, Save An Innate Clinging, A Loathsome And Yet All Invincible Instinct Of Life, Which I Abhor, As I Despise Myself, Yet Cannot Overcome — And So I Live. Would I Had Never Lived!

So Much Alarmed That She Is Quite Alarming

Better To Sink Beneath The Shock Than Moulder Piecemeal On The Rock!

Though I Love My Country, I Do Not Love My Countrymen.