What words have I to say to you,
you the author of all speech and sound?
What dare I to bare before your eyes
that you did not know before and look on still?
In the marrow of my dreams I still ache for dawn
but to confess this wish to you, is to speak it to myself
and the weight of such a visage I cannot bare
for all is gone, all is lost in the mess of minutes, miles, and hours!

Come for me if you ever loved me once and if you love me still
invade the place that is your own by right, come and break this will.
Tarry not, I taste sanity only for a time
but soon these rhythms will change, notes will leap upon a line
and darker eyes will open from these prayers
eyes which I wish I had never learned to call mine.

Have mercy on me
and if this unstable plea should whither in my mouth
Have mercy still
for I am most quietly ill