104 deg. FAHRENHEIT

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.