The dreams of the dreamer Are life-drops that pass The break in the heart To the soul's hour-glass. The songs of the singer Are tones that repeat The cry of the heart 'Till it ceases to beat. I want to die while you love me, While yet you hold me fair, While laughter lies upon my lips And lights are in my hair. I want to die while you love me, And bear to that still bed, Your kisses turbulent, unspent To warm me when I'm dead.