I am Yet what I am no one cares or knows My friends forsake me like a memory lost I am the self-consumer of my woes They rise and vanish in oblivion's host I long for scenes where no man ever trod A place where woman never smiled nor wept There to abide with my creator, God And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass below, above the volted sky