Not lips of mine have ever said:
“Would God that I were dead!”
    Nay, cruel griefs! ye cannot break
    My love of life; nor can ye make
Oblivion blest in any wise,
    Nor death seem sweet for sorrow’s sake.
Life! life! my every pulse outcries
    For life, and love, and quickened breath,
    O God,—not not for death!