Death is temptations whisper
on the wanton wind,
a silent promise in stagnate life.
Oh sleepless beauty,
to awaken nevermore.
Not to feel nor burn,
nor scorn the rot of centuries turned.
To bewail and begrudge
time's wavering fancies,
untouched it seems,
by love and lust and grieving moon,
fate's whims lost unto you,
your ever perfect ears.
