i am.

Dear myself, iam: yet what I am none cares or knows,

My friends forsake me like a memory lost;

I am the self-consumer of my woes,

They rise and vanish in oblivious lost;

Like shades in love and death's oblivious ghost ;

And yet I am ! and live with shadows tost

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,

Into the living se of waking dreams,

Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,

But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;

And e'en the dearst-that i loved the best--

Are strange-- nay ,rather stranger than the rest.

I long for sense where man has never trod;

A wondeland place where woman never smil'd or wept;

There to abide with my creator, god,

And sleep as i in childhood sweetly slept;

Untoubling and untroubled where i lie;

The grass belowe-- above the valued sky.