Darkling, listen For many a time I have been half in love with easeful death My heart is aching, drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk Or emptied some dull opiate to drain One minute past and Lethe-wards had sunk Darkling, listen For I will fly to thee Where youth grows pale and spectre thin and dies Where but to think is to be full of sorrow Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes Or new love pine at them beyond tomorrow Darkling, listen For I will fly to thee I cannot see what flowers are at my feet Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs You make me beg or crawl upon my knees Just for a taste, a decadent perusal Darkling, listen For I will fly to thee