Vainly some refuge from their weight I crave,
Yet it shall be the burthen of my song
Until I rest within the quiet grave;
No brighter hope hath my sad spirit known —
And I must still live on unloved—alone!
They call me cold and reckless of the love
Of kindred spirits, while they gaze with pain
At the strange picture of a mind above
All thoughts of waking warm affection’s strain;
How can they dream my proud, high heart would show