Peace, peace!
She is not dead, she does not sleep —
She has awakened from the dream of
life —
Tis we who, lost in stormy visions,
Keep with phantoms an unprofitable strife,
And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife
Invulnerable nothings.
We decay like corpses in a charnel;
Fear and grief convulse us and
consume us day by day
And cold hopes swarm like worms
within our liv
Forum:
Tell Me