(Killed At Surrey C. H., October, 1866.) . . . . . Dear Friend, Forgive A Wild Lament Insanely Following Thy Flight. I Would Not Cumber Thine Ascent Nor Drag Thee Back Into The Night; But The Great Sea-Winds Sigh With Me, The Fair-Faced Stars Seem Wrinkled, Old, And I Would That I Might Lie With Thee There In The Grave So Cold, So Cold! Grave Walls Are Thick, I Cannot See Thee, And The Round Skies Are Far And Steep; A-Wild To Quaff Some Cup Of Lethe, Pain Is Proud And Scorns To Weep. My Heart Breaks If It Cling About Thee, And Still Breaks, If Far From Thine. O Drear, Drear Death, To Live Without Thee, O Sad Life - To Keep Thee Mine.