AT THE GRAVE OF N.M.D.
Martha Dickinson Bianchi translation
Forsaken am I now anew, Night's sombre wings o'er me descending, As tearless, meditating, dumb— Above thy grave's low mound I'm bending. Naught offers recompense for thee, No hopes console or fears betray— For whom now live I in this world? For whom on earth now shall I pray?