“ We’re all alone, we’re all alone !
The moon and stars are dead and gone ;
The night’s at deep, the wind’s 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 crowned the height of breathing bliss !
And now we keep an iron sleep—
In that grave thou, and I in this ! ”