Kazoo

Sleep in love, naughty tuner of cicadasl
Under the quitch-grasses covering you,
The cicada will sing for you too,
Merrily, with his little cymbals.

The dew will have tears in the morning;
And lilies-of-the-valley make a sweet winding-sheet.
Sleep in love, naughty tuner of cicadas!

There will be wailing droves of squalls . . .

The Muse of Death will set the pitch.
She will still bring to your darkened lips
Those rhymes that make the pale-faced twitch.
Sleep in love, naughty tuner of cicadas!