This is to be along; this, this is solitude!
I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?
As winds come whispering lightly from the West, Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene.
In solitude, when we are least alone.
The 'good old times' - all times when old are good.
But there are wanderers o'er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.