Any Relic Of The Dead Is Precious,

Wondered How Anyone Could Ever Imagine Unquiet Slumbers, For The Sleepers In That Quiet Earth.

If You Ever Looked At Me Once With What I Know Is In You, I'd Be Your Slave.

If I Could I Would Always Work In Silence And Obscurity, And Let My Efforts Be Known By Their Results.

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.

It Is Strange People Should Be So Greedy, When They Are Alone In The World.