("J'Habite L'Ombre.") [1855.] True; I Dwell Lone, Upon Sea-Beaten Cape, Mere Raft Of Stone; Whence All Escape Save One Who Shrinks Not From The Gloom, And Will Not Take The Coward'S Leap I' The Tomb. My Bedroom Rocks With Breezes; Quakes In Storms, When Dangling Locks Of Seaweed Mock The Forms Of Straggling Clouds That Trail O'Erhead Like Tresses From Disrupted Coffin-Lead. Upon The Sky Crape Palls Are Often Nailed With Stars. Mine Eye Has Scared The Gull That Sailed To Blacker Depths With Shrillest Scream, Still Fainter, Till Like Voices In A Dream. My Days Become More Plaintive, Wan, And Pale, While O'Er The Foam I See, Borne By The Gale, Infinity! In Kindness Sent - To Find Me Ever Saying: "I'm Content!"