Now let all lovely things embark
Upon the sea of mist
With her whose luscious mouth the dark
Grim troubadour has kissed

The silver clock that ticked away
Her days, and never knew
Its beats were sword thrusts to the clay
That too much beauty slew

The pillow favored with her tears
And hallowed by her head;
I shall not even keep my fears
Now their concern is dead

But where shall I bury sun and rain
How mortalise the stars
How still the half-heard cries of pain
That seared her soul with scars?

In what sea depths shall all the seeds
Of every flower die?
Where shall I scatter the broken reeds
And how erase the sky?

And where shall I find a hole so deep
No troubled ghost may rise?
There will I put my head to sleep
Wanting her face and eyes