A biographical poem.
|Like Frankenstein, I, too, am loathed to death;
I walk this earth devoid of friend and hearth,
devoid of joy from the time of my birth
and from the first draw of my infant's breath.
An outcast and a pariah among
the friended, I exist without the mirth
and glee of those born of more ample worth,
esteem and prize,—O would that I belong!
Still, I am loved of my dear family
and most scarce friends, my books, and by Lord God
and my most oft-read, soothing poetry.
These things I cherish, honor, and so laud
with gratitude and thanks abundantly
and am glad as a worm in blesséd sod.