The fairest flowers my fancy wove,
Behold my fondest idols perished,
Receive the incense of my love!
What though the scornful world, deriding,
Such waste of love, of service, fears?
Still let me pour, through taunt and chiding,
The rich libation of my tears.
I bring my box of alabaster;
Accepted let the offering rise!
So grateful tears shall flow the faster,