I am tired of the light,
And long for the night,
To rest forever and aye!
“O Soul, I am tired of you, tired!
Go ask of Time, and find
Some quiet spot,
Where feeling is not,
And oblivion conquers mind!”
As Margaret finished reading she bent over and kissed the white face. “Is this yours?” she asked.
“Yes, and dozens of others. They have been my safeguard against insanity. Only when I could go outside of myself, could I find anything to make the barren life endurable.”