The storm is hushed, the agony is o'er.
I would not feel again
The passion and the pain.
Do not again come knocking at my door.
Leave me alone. Put not into my hand
A broken cup, though bound with golden band,
Lest I with thirsty lip
Once more its passions sip.
Still let it lie, all shattered on the sand.
Leave me alone. I followed, long ago,
Joy to its tomb, with tolling marches slow.
Wake not my buried slain,
Only to die again.
Leave me to peace___'tis all I hope to know.
Leave me alone. I may not quite forget
The buried love, whose sweetness thrills me yet;
But let the willow wave;
Rake not a grass-grown grave;
Break not the turf, for fresh-rung tears to wet.
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