ECHO
Reading edition
Oh, weary heart, dependent for a song On whether someone smiles or not at thee. Oh, weary life, the loveless years are long Yet deathless are the thoughts of him to me. Within an ancient castle on the coast, Where all the sea-dead sailor lads make moan, I hear a melancholy cello sing Its mad and mournful music to the moon, A dirge of febrile beauty and despair That fills the night with phantom, frantic song. And phrase to phrase with sexual life responds While fierce satyriasis, orchestrally, Like nine symphonic horns unharmonized Calls wildly through the hollows of my heart.