Oh, For The Time When

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.

Tis Moonlight, Summer Moonlight, All Soft And Still And Fair; The Solemn Hour Of Midnight Breathes Sweet Thoughts Everywhere, But Most Where Trees Are Sending Their Breezy Boughs On High, Or Stooping Low Are Lending A Shelter From The Sky. And There In Those Wild Bowers A Lovely Form Is Laid; Green Grass And Dew-steeped Flowers Wave Gently Round Her Head.

He Wanted All To Lie In An Ecstasy Of Peace; I Wanted All To Sparkle And Dance In A Glorious Jubilee. I Said His Heaven Would Be Only Half Alive; And He Said Mine Would Be Drunk: I Said I Should Fall Asleep In His; And He Said He Could Not Breathe In Mine.

Still Let My Tyrants Know, I Am Not Doomed To Wear Year After Year In Gloom, And Desolate Despair; A Messenger Of Hope Comes Every Night To Me, And Offers For Short Life, Eternal Liberty.

No Coward Soul Is Mine, No Trembler In The World's Storm-troubled Sphere.