On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year

'T IS time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it hath ceased to move: Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of Love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some Volcanic isle; No torch is kindled at its blaze-- A funeral pile.…