I Despise Him For Himself, And Hate

Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of, His And Mine Are The Same.

If I Had Caused The Cloud, It Was My Duty To Make An Effort To Dispel It.

I Pray Every Night That I May Live After Him; Because I Would Rather Be Miserable Than That He Should Be — That Proves I Love Him Better Than Myself.

Wish And Learn To Smooth Away The Surly Wrinkles, To Raise Your Lids Frankly, And Change The Fiends To Confident, Innocent Angels, Suspecting And Doubting Nothing, And Always Seeing Friends Where They Are Not Sure Of Foes.

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.