Any Relic Of The Dead Is Precious,

Cold Inthe Earthand The Deepsnow Piled Abovethee, Far, Far, Removed, Cold In The Dreary Grave! Have I Forgot, My Only Love, To Love Thee, Severed At Last Bytime's All-serving Wave?

A Heaven So Clear, An Earth So Calm, So Sweet, So Soft, So Hushed An Air; And, Deepening Still The Dreamlike Charm, Wild Moor-sheep Feeding Everywhere.

The Winter Wind Is Loud And Wild, Come Close To Me, My Darling Child; Forsake Thy Books, And Mate Less Play; And, While The Night Is Gathering Grey, We'll Talk Its Pensive Hours Away.

Still Let My Tyrants Know, I Am Not Doomed To Wear Year After Year In Gloom, And Desolate Despair; A Messenger Of Hope Comes Every Night To Me, And Offers For Short Life, Eternal Liberty.

By This Curious Turn Of Disposition I Have Gained The Reputation Of Deliberate Heartlessness; How Undeserved, I Alone Can Appreciate.