A single fir-tree, lonely,
on a northern mountain height,
sleeps in a white blanket,
draped in snow and ice.
Our death is in the cool of night,
our life is in the pool of day.
The darkness glows, I’m drowning,
the day has tired me with light.
Death And His Brother Sleep (‘morphine’)
There’s a mirror likeness between those two
shining, youthfully-fledged figures, though
one seems paler than the other and more austere,
I might even say more perfect, more distinguished,
The years they come and go,
The races drop in the grave,
Yet never the love doth so
Which here in my heart I have.
They loved each other with love so deep,
She was a tramp and he was a thief.
When he was plying his naughty craft,
I Love This White And Slender Body
I Love this white and slender body,
These limbs that answer Love's caresses,
Passionate eyes, and forehead covered