Let be at last; give over words and sighing, <br />Vainly were all things said: <br />Better at last to find a place for lying, <br />Only dead. <br /> <br />Silence were best, with songs and sighing over; <br />Now be the music mute; <br />Now let the dead, red leaves of autumn cover <br />A vain lute. <br /> <br />Silence is best: for ever and for ever, <br />We will go down and sleep, <br />Somewhere beyond her ken, where she need never <br />Come to weep. <br /> <br />Let be at last: colder she grows and colder; <br />Sleep and the night were best; <br />Lying at last where we cannot behold her, <br />We may rest.<br /><br />Ernest Christopher Dowson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/venite-descendamus/
