Waking or asleep, thou of death must deem Things more true and deep than we mortals Than we mortals dream We look before and after And pine for what's not our sincerest laughter Waking or asleep, thou of death must deem Things more true and deep than we mortals dream We look before and after, and pine for what's not Our sincerest laughter with some pain is fraught Will thou now forget the happy hours Which we buried in Love's In Love's sweet bowers Heaping over their corpses so cold Blossoms and leaves, instead of the mold? Forget the dead and the past? Oh, yet There are ghosts that may take revenge for it Memories that make the cold heart a tomb Regrets which glide through the spirit's gloom Waking or asleep, thou of death must deem Things more true and deep than we mortals Than we mortals dream We look before and after And pine for what's not our sincerest laughter