Dost thou turn thine eyes away from me,
thy stern and gentle eyes,
From the error of my living days, O thou in
Death most wise?
O thou in Death most wise,
With thy stern and gentle eyes,
Then is thy sleep disturbed by doubt, thy
coffin by surprise?
Have I not trodden then the ways which thou
wouldst have me tread?
Then was it but a wind of words, the passioned
vows I said?
The passioned vows I said,
The ways which I should tread,
So have I quite forgotten these now thou art
safely dead?
Unless I take thy buried lips my final word to say,
Unless I take thy crumbled eyes to light my tangled way,
To light my tangled way,
My final word to say,
Suddenly, Death, come down in flame and
shrive me from the day!