I have spun my bygone's tomb upon your windowsill
I have hung my lot upon your door's brass rapper
And with that lion of stone I take my nightly crimson supper
And watch you shiver looking out upon the cypress' hill.

My love of doursweeet lemon roses and tobacco tufts
Let fall shrill and shriek jealously as winter huffs and puffs
May we be leaves beneath the dew of our extraordinary time
May we be detritus of stars shone once, short but sublime!