Oh how the forever slumber flirts with me
I fancy a devine deliverance
Tho an unrelenting ache labors me
Not even the crudest inclinations serve
Come to me at once solitude
Amity is not what I seek
Although it may consume my sorrow
I seek not delight
For the anguish is far too familiar
Tell me ,what will leave me in the middle ?
Like the pitiful creature of Mary Shelley's model
I too demand a creation of a being like I
A being to sympathize and live as I live
A selfish necessity
To damn another to endless agony
How cruel of me