The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.
My mind is clouded with a doubt.
Happy days roll onward leading up to golden years.
For love reflects the thing beloved.
But while I breathe Heaven's air and Heaven looks down on me, And smiles at my best meanings, I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.
That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.