  WE’re all alone, we’re all alone! The moon and stars are dead and gone; The night’s at deep, the wind asleep, And thou and I are all alone! What care have we though life there be? Tumult and life are not for me! Silence and sleep about us creep; Tumult and life are not for thee! How late it is since such as this Had topped the height of breathing bliss! And now we keep an iron sleep,— In that grave thou, and I in this! |
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