Must I live on, treading the thorny road

That knows no resting place, but leads haply

Through toil and stress to the threshold

Of Fame’s serene abode, or wilds that lie

Forlorn in the haze of Oblivion?

O the ingrate world! Standing aloof on

Its desolate shore, ne’er shall I the pavilion

In Aurorean glow gaze wond’ringly upon,

Nor hail Spring’s sunbeamy air with sweet tears,

Nor list to the ocean’s eternal whispering;

Yet, in the nighted shades of human fears

And dull realities. where I am sojourning,

 Might love still dwell in this heart sorrow-laden, –

 A pale flower cherished by some sad maiden...