Closed in wooden frame I permeate with my cool Gathered under crypt Slaves of my leave Allow on final steep Don’t cross way to fate Turn off last flame of feeling Put away supplicates and prayers Show your back good bye And try silently slam door In glare of candles crystal tears Under nights shield tear Stained faces at feet of catafalque Moon has already risen On stained-Glass windows Crickets has resumed nights arias Over catafalque