There Is Not Room For Death, Nor

You Know, I've Had A Bitter, Hard Life Since I Last Heard Your Voice And If I've Survived It's All Because Of You.

Yes, As My Swift Days Near Their Goal, 'tis All That I Implore: In Life And Death A Chainless Soul, With Courage To Endure.

Terror Made Me Cruel; And Finding It Useless To Attempt Shaking The Creature Off, I Pulled Its Wrist On To The Broken Pane, And Rubbed It To And Fro Till The Blood Ran Down And Soaked The Bedclothes.

The Winter Wind Is Loud And Wild, Come Close To Me, My Darling Child; Forsake Thy Books, And Mate Less Play; And, While The Night Is Gathering Grey, We'll Talk Its Pensive Hours Away.

He Might As Well Plant An Oak In A Flowerpot, And Expect It To Thrive, As Imagine He Can Restore Her To Vigour In The Soil Of His Shallow Cares!