Tread aside from my starry bloom!
I am the nurse who feed the tomb
(The tomb, my child)
With dainties piled,
Until it grows strong as a tempest wild.

Trample not on a virgin flower!
I am the maid of the midnight hour:
I bear sweet sleep,
To those who weep,
And lie on their eyelids dark and deep.

Tread not thou on my snaky eyes!
I am the worm that the weary prize,
The Nile's soft asp,
That they strive to grasp,
And one that a queen has loved to clasp!

Pity me! I am she whom man
Hath hated since ever the world began;
I soothe his brain,
In the night of pain,
But at morning he waketh,—and all is vain!