Ah, words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away.
I am gennerally understood tho I do not use that awkward squad of pointings called commas colons semicolons etc.
I found the poems in the fields And only wrote them down
I am the self-consumer of my woes.
In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be; Where all the noises, that on peace intrude, Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee, Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.
I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smil'd or wept; There to abide with my creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept: Untroubling and untroubled where I lie; The grass below--above the vaulted sky.