Beneath the midnight moon it seemed
That all my days thus far redeemed
Were as the birdsong in the night
That twitters meekly, soars, takes flight,
And hence is gone, is heard no more,
An echo of what was before

Who now shall hear or think of me?
My wistful days upon the sea,
My footfalls pacing to and fro
With furrowed brow; who now shall know
The hand that wrote heedless of mind,
The legacy I leave behind

Tomorrow's dawn shall rouse alas
One sip the less within its glass,
The earth shall take me in, I trust,
And grow the richer for my dust,
And birds shall sing without a care
Unheard by one no longer there