| Epitaph For A Poet |
|---|
| I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth |
| And laid them away in a box of gold |
| Where long will cling the lips of the moth |
| I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth |
| I hide no hate; |
| I am not even wroth |
| Who found the earth’s breath so keen and cold |
| I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth |
| And laid them away in a box of gold |
