This house is dark and dull and dreer
No light doth shine from far or near
Its like the tomb.
And those of us who live herein
Are most as dead as serrafim
Though not as good.
My gardian angel is asleep
At leest he doth no vigil keep
Ah! woe is me!
Then give me back my lonely farm
Where none alive did wish me harm
Dear home of youth!