If from society we learn to live, solitude should teach us how to die.
Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, All ashes to the taste.
The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.
Fills The air around with beauty.
Fill high the cup with Samian wine!