Three Friends Of Mine 4

[ZaunköniG]

IV

River, that stealest with such silent pace
  Around the City of the Dead, where lies
  A friend who bore thy name, and whom these eyes
  Shall see no more in his accustomed place,

Linger and fold him in thy soft embrace
  And say good night, for now the western skies
  Are red with sunset, and gray mists arise
  Like damps that gather on a dead man's face.

Good night! good night! as we so oft have said
  Beneath this roof at midnight in the days
  That are no more, and shall no more return.

Thou hast but taken thy lamp and gone to bed;
  I stay a little longer, as one stays
  To cover up the embers that still burn.