I Loved My Country, And I Hated

It Has Been Said That The Immortality Of The Soul Is A Grand Peut-tre -but Still It Is A Grand One. Everybody Clings To It -the Stupidest, And Dullest, And Wickedest Of Human Bipeds Is Still Persuaded That He Is Immortal.

Yet I Did Love Thee To The Last, As Ferverently As Thou, Who Didst Not Change Through All The Past, And Canst Not Alter Now.

My Days Are In The Yellow Leaf; The Flowers And Fruits Of Love Are Gone; The Worm, The Canker, And The Grief, Are Mine Alone!

The Stars Are Forth, The Moon Above The Tops Of The Snow-shining Mountains--beautiful! I Linger Yet With Nature, For The Night Hath Been To Me A More Familiar Face Than That Of Man, And In Her Starry Shade Of Dim And Solitary Loveliness I Learned The Language Of Another World.

Her Great Merit Is Finding Out Mine; There Is Nothing So Amiable As Discernment.