Oh skeleton with the hungry jaw,
Corpse-snatcher, armed with tooth and claw,
Not satiate yet? Thy lustful maw?
Eiré, to you our love we gave,
Our mother-mistress, now our grave,
Be pitiful for once, and save!
My heart hath grown a very clod,
Stone-bound, unfruitful as this sod;
I ask and ask—“Is there a God?”
Eiré, to you our love we gave