That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.
If I could have two things in one: the peace of the grave, and the light of the sun.
But you were something more than young and sweet And fair, - and the long year remembers you.
... but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight
Martyred many times must be Who would keep his country free.
My heart is warm with the friends I make, And better friends I'll not be knowing, Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take, No matter where it's going.