The season was waning fast<br />Our nights were growing cold at last<br />I took her to bed with silk and song,<br />'Lay still, my love, I won’t be long;<br />I must prepare my body for passion.'<br />'O, your body you give, but all else you ration.'<br />'It is because of these dreams of a sylvan scene:<br />A bleeding nymph to leave me serene...<br />I have dreams of a trembling wench.'<br />'You have dreams,' she said, 'that cannot be quenched.'<br />'Our passion,' said I, 'should never be feared;<br />As our longing for love can never be cured.<br />Our want is our way and our way is our will,<br />We have the love, my love, that no one can kill.'<br />'If night is your love, then in dreams you’ll fulfill...<br />This love, our love, that no one can kill.'<br />Yet want is my way, and my way is my will,<br />Thus I killed my love with a sleeping pill.
![Roman Payne](/images/profiles/7619/1.jpg)