Prepare your wreaths, Aonian maids divine,
To strew the tranquil bed where I shall sleep;
In tears, the myrtle and the laurel steep,
And let Erato's hand the trophies twine.
No parian marble, there, with labour'd line,
Shall bid the wand'ring lover stay to weep;
There holy silence shall her vigils keep.
Save, when the nightingale such woes as mine
Shall sadly…

— Robinson
https://palimpseste.vercel.app/#text/99118e3b-fceb-498c-a393-14565e6cb40e
#mystic #dream #bookstodon #books #literature