Classic Poem

To-night I lay with fever in my veins
Consumed, tormented creature of fire and ice,
And, weaving the enhavock'd brain's device,
Dreamed that for evermore I must walk these plains
Where sunlight slayeth life, and where no rains
Abated the fierce air, nor slaked its fire:
So that death seemed the end of all desire,
To ease the distracted body of its pains.
And so I died, and from my eyes the glare
Faded, nor had I further need of breath;
But when I reached my hand to find you there
Beside me, I found nothing. . . . Lonely was death,
And with a cry I wakened, but to hear
Thin wings of fever singing in my ear.