The poem
Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity, And never care how rain may steep, Or snow may cover me! No promised heaven these wild desires Could all, or half, fulful; No threatened hell, with quenchless fires, Subdue this quenchless will!
So said I, and still say the same; Still, to my death, will say— Three gods within this little frame Are warring night and day: Heaven could not hold them all, and yet They all are held in me; And must be mine till I forget My present entity!
Oh, for the time when in my breast Their struggles will be o'er! Oh, for the day when I shall rest, And never suffer more!