In Memoriam 16 I envy not in any moods

I envy not in any

The captive void of noble rage,

The linnet born within the cage,

That never knew the summer woods:

I envy not the beast that

His license in the field of time,

Unfetter'd by the sense of crime,

To whom a conscience never wakes;

Nor, what may count itself as blest,

The heart that never plighted

But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;

Nor any want-begotten rest.

I hold it true, whate'er befall;

I feel it, when I sorrow most;'Tis better to have loved and

Than never to have loved at all.