Across deserted walls.
So still my heart lie sleeping
Till love's hot sun be set,
For waking is but weeping.
Asleep—sad eyes forget.
[IN THE GRAVE]
Dear Love—do you wake in that land where my waking is done?
Do you bare your brave head to the winds and the clouds and the sun?
And is Summer aflame?
Or has the night fallen to sleep on earth's wonderful breast,