Thou Canst Not Touch The Freedom Of

Fairest Of Stars, Last In The Train Of Night, If Better Thou Belong Not To The Dawn.

More Safe I Sing With Mortal Voice, Unchang'd To Hoarse Or Mute, Though Fall'n On Evil Days, On Evil Days Though Fall'n, And Evil Tongues.

Yet I Shall Temper So Justice With Mercy, As May Illustrate Most Them Fully Satisfy'd, And Thee Appease.

With Cowslips Wan That Hang The Pensive Head, And Every Flower That Sad Embroidery Wears.

What Am I Pondering, You Ask? So Help Me God, Immortality.