"Awake, my darling;
Open your eyes.
The light that marred the sky this morning?
Gone; met its demise.
But you and I remain,
With us the moon.
Oh - I talk with you in vain this early,
And you might wake up too soon.
For you and I are but the same
And I should wish for you to sleep much longer
If my self is to stay sane,
And if yours is to grow stronger.
Who's to say man's not a beast,
But some sort of rambling fool?
I shall tell you, at the least
That my nature is quite cruel.
Or your nature, better said;
When you'll rise this evening
From your cold and frozen bed
Pick a flower as your prize.
For when morning breaks
And I'll awake atop the tower
With this body, heavy from aches
I should like to hold a flower.
It'd stop then my surprise
At the numerous, heartrending,
Desperate, shallow cries
All accusing me for the ending of their worthless, empty lives."