The vital vapors to absorb,
The moon, with famished gaze,
Suspends her lean, malignant orb
Above a dying face.
I watch her like a folded flower,
As silently expand
The pulses waving hour by hour
And heavier the hand,
Till she hath brimmed her cup; and I
An empty chalice hold;
My heart, in agony, as dry,
In wintriness as cold.