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idol was made of mortal clay
Such are my thoughts – in such
mental agony so I spend the
weary hours – It is a bitter
consciousness when we are awakened
from a dream of happiness by a
stern reality & know that from
henceforth it may never be
indulged in again – sad &
X forlorn I stand amid the ruin X
of the past – in this strange
country I have made no friends
in all these years we have
been all the world to each
other & there was no sacrifice
he wd. not have made for me
never was such a Husband, &
I gave him love for love