Find solace in solitude,
There is no shame in that.
We are unknown to ourselves
An ocean to which we delve.
Scarcely coming up for air,
Entangled in fathoms
Whirlpools of despair.
Waves of introspection
Spare us shallow reefs
Yet cast us into darkness
And the horrors of the deep.

Turn back, O Hands of heedless Time!
When Life flowed gently day by day,
With no devices to outweigh
The golden melody sublime.

O! to regain those precious years;
A fortune I would swiftly give
If I perchance might gladly live'
Undaunted by these haunting fears.

Turn back! O Hands of cruel years
When Tranquility reigned supreme
And only Rapture wakened tears,
Life surreal flowing as a dream.