Neobule, being tired, <br />Far too tired to laugh or weep, <br />From the hours, rosy and gray, <br />Hid her golden face away. <br />Neobule, fain of sleep, <br />Slept at last as she desired! <br /> <br />Neobule! is it well, <br />That you haunt the hollow lands, <br />Where the poor, dead people stray, <br />Ghostly, pitiful and gray, <br />Plucking, with their spectral hands, <br />Scentless blooms of asphodel? <br /> <br />Neobule, tired to death <br />Of the flowers that I threw <br />On her flower-like, fair feet, <br />Sighed for blossoms not so sweet, <br />Lunar roses pale and blue, <br />Lilies of the world beneath. <br /> <br />Neobule! ah, too tired <br />Of the dreams and days above! <br />Where the poor, dead people stray, <br />Ghostly, pitiful and gray, <br />Out of life and out of love, <br />Sleeps the sleep which she desired.<br /><br />Ernest Christopher Dowson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-requiem-3/
