When The Mind's Free, The

Mine Eyes Are Full Of Tears, My Heart Of Grief.

An Arrant Traitor As Any Is In The Universal World, Or In France, Or In England.

You Cannot, Sir, Take From Me Any Thing That I Will More Willingly Part Withal: Except My Life, Except My Life, Except My Life.

And Teach Me How To Name The Bigger Light, And How The Less, That Burn By Day And Night.

Why, I Can Smile And Murder Whiles I Smile, And Cry 'content' To That Which Grieves My Heart, And Wet My Cheeks With Artificial Tears, And Frame My Face For All Occasions