The old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again

Terror made me cruel.

Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.

I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free... Why am I so changed? I'm sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills.

And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright unclouded day.

Though earth and man were gone, And suns and universes ceased to be, And Thou wert left alone, Every existence would exist in Thee.

Nay, you'll be ashamed of me everyday of your life," he answered; "and the more ashamed, the more you know me; and I cannot bide it.