In Solitude, Where We Are Least Alone.

Till Taught By Pain, Men Know Not Water's Worth.

Sleep Hath Its Own World, And The Wide Realm Of Wild Reality.

For Pleasures Past I Do Not Grieve, Nor Perils Gathering Near; My Greatest Grief Is That I Leave Nothing That Claims A Tear.

Still From The Fount Of Joy's Delicious Springs Some Bitter O'er The Flowers Its Bubbling Venom Flings.

By Heaven! It Is A Splendid Sight To See For One Who Hath No Friend, No Brother There.