I Shall Soon Be Six-and-twenty. Is There

Twas Twilight, And The Sunless Day Went Down Over The Waste Of Waters; Like A Veil, Which, If Withdrawn, Would But Disclose The Frown Of One Whose Hate Is Mask'd But To Assail.

I Speak Not Of Men's Creeds—they Rest Between Man And His Maker.

Better To Sink Beneath The Shock Than Moulder Piecemeal On The Rock!

I Die But First I Have Possessed, And Come What May, I Have Been Blessed.

With Thee All Tales Are Sweet; Each Clime Has Charms; Earth - Sea Alike - Our World Within Our Arms.