If the stars could be captured dear
How useless would they be;
For one resides lying here
With its flame upon me.
If the dew of the mountain top
Was as diamonds in my hand
I would gladly those riches drop
And by this fairer jewel stand.
But the tears of my cemetery stride
Follow from a wasted year
With those I dreamed of by my side
And the oaths I still can hear.
What faces of the infernal domain
To craft a feature far more fair
O’er the tears that yet remain
Below the souls that I must wear
My angel no wings doth adorn
And somewhere yet must lie
Bleeding dreams for which I mourn
Believe me dear; it has made me cry.
So loathe me not for my scars—
Loathe me not, for I am afraid
That thou wouldst rather have the stars
Than the ghosts my dreams made.
Know thy heart is to me
A song blessed to hear
And I pray thou shalt see
There is joy in this new tear.
And if the Gods themselves did bring
The riches of their art
Know thee I would rather sing
With the beauty of thy heart.
And if the stars did fall
Their wishes granted here
Know I would deny them each and all,
For I would rather have thee dear.