Edgar Allan Poe - To M—— lyrics

1 O! I care not that my earthly lot Hath—little of Earth in it, That years of love have been forgot In the fever of a minute— 2 I heed not that the desolate Are happier, sweet, than I— But that you meddle with my fate Who am a pa**er by. 3 It is not that my founts of bliss Are gushing—strange! with tears— Or that the thrill of a single kiss Hath palsied many years— 4 'Tis not that the flowers of twenty springs Which have wither'd as they rose Lie dead on my heart-strings With the weight of an age of snows. 5 Not that the gra**—O! may it thrive! On my grave is growing or grown— But that, while I am dead yet alive I cannot be, lady, alone.