Believe not tomorrow, the Dawn's fragrant lies,
Nor Love's fickle promise which heavenward flies
On gilded wings soon fallen to death
As songs which hearts sung gasp piteous breath.
O, sweetest poems my ear did assail
From lutes plied by angels 'pon shimmering vale
Which nebulous, floated nowhere save in Dream,
As my soul kisses gallows in wretched scream/
Now I walk midst the graves and envy the peace
Of slumber well-gained, and long for release
From the heart's empty exile, long laden with chains,
To sleep! Repose! beneath midnight rains...