Believing I was still much I had been.
Too soon I found all faith had gone from me,
And the late glow of life, like change on clouds,
Proved not the morn-blush widening into day,
But eve faint-colored by the dying sun
While darkness hastens quickly. I will tell
My state as though 't were none of mine—despair
Cannot come near us—this it is, my state.
Souls alter not, and mine must still advance;
Strange that I knew not, when I flung away