Though Earth And Man Were Gone, And

How Cruel, Your Veins Are Full Of Ice-water And Mine Are Boiling

But There's This One Difference: One Is Gold Put To The Use Of Paving-stones, And The Other Is Tin Polished To Ape A Service Of Silver. Mine Has Nothing Valuable About It; Yet I Shall Have The Merit Of Making It Go As Far As Such Poor Stuff Can Go. His Had First-rate Qualities, And They Are Lost, Rendered Worst Than Unavailing.

The Night Is Darkening Round Me, The Wild Winds Coldly Blow; But A Tyrant Spell Has Bound Me, And I Cannot, Cannot Go.

I Wish I Were A Girl Again, Half-savage And Hardy, And Free.

It Is For God To Punish Wicked People; We Should Learn To Forgive.