THE OLD STOIC
Riches I hold in light esteem,
And Love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but
a dream,
That vanished with the morn:
And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, "Leave the heart that
now I bear,
And give me liberty!"
Yes, as my swift days near
their goal:
'Tis all that I implore
;
In life and death a chainless
soul,
With courage to endure.
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