Nay, You'll Be Ashamed Of Me Everyday

Oh, For The Time When I Shall Sleep Without Identity.

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.

Riches I Hold In Light Esteem, And Love I Laugh To Scorn, And Lust Of Fame Was But A Dream That Vanished With The Morn. And If I Pray, The Only Prayer That Moves My Lips For Me Is, 'leave The Heart That Now I Bear, And Give Me Liberty!' Yes, As My Swift Days Near Their Goal, 'tis All That I Implore - In Life And Death, A Chainless Soul, With Courage To Endure.

Though Earth And Man Were Gone, And Suns And Universes Ceased To Be, And Thou Wert Left Alone, Every Existence Would Exist In Thee.

The Lord Help Us!' He Soliloquised In An Undertone Of Peevish Displeasure, While Relieving Me Of My Horse: Looking, Meantime, In My Face So Sourly That I Charitably Conjectured He Must Have Need Of Divine Aid To Digest His Dinner, And His Pious Ejaculation Had No Reference To My Unexpected Advent.