I know that I shall meet my fate,
Somewhere among the clouds above.
Those that I fight, I do not hate;
And those that I guard, I do not love.
Nor law, nor duty, do I do fight;
Nor public men;
Nor cheering crowds.
A lonely impulse of delight,
Drove to this tomb up in the clouds.
A ballard's doll, brought all to mind -
The years to come, seem a wasted breath.
A wasted breath, to years behind.
The balance of this life, is death.