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Bitter shrieks the North

the night-bird screams

Oh! Why have I done

Oh! let me die

that my sorrows may rest in tomb

that the voice of man may strike never more

satan spoke with me

may never mock the bursting of my sad heart.

Hours of Solitude

Sad and strange are my nights; my days are a dim mist

Oh! let me be laid in the grave, and let the spirits of the air bend over my tomb

Dark as the wintry midnight is my soul;

Bitter shrieks the North wind

dismal over the dark

Oh! let me be laid in the grave,

and let the spirits of the air bend over my tomb!

over my tomb

over my tomb

satan spoke with me