Epitaph for a Poet
Countee Cullen, Peter Schickele
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth
And laid them away in a box of gold
Where long will cling the lips of the moth
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth
I hide no hate; I am not even wroth
Who found the earth's breath so keen and cold
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth
And laid them away in a box of gold