Edgar Allan Poe - To—— ("The bowers...") lyrics

The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see The wantonest singing birds Are lips—and all thy melody Of lip-begotten words— Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrin'd Then desolately fall, O! God! on my funereal mind Like starlight on a pall— Thy heart—thy heart!—I wake and sigh, And sleep to dream till day Of truth that gold can never buy— Of the trifles that it may.