1

 

The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see

The wantonest singing birds

Are lips — and all thy melody

Of lip-begotten words —

 

2

 

Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrin'd

Then desolately fall,

O! God! on my funereal mind

Like starlight on a pall —

 

3

 

Thy heart — thy heart! — I wake and sigh,

And sleep to dream till day

Of truth that gold can never buy —

Of the trifles that it may.