text:  When for the sons of men is stilled the day's turmoil And on the dumb streets of the city With half-transparent shade sinks Night the friend of Toil-- And Sleep--calm as the tear of Pity; Oh then how drag they on how silent and how slow The lonely vigil-hours tormenting; How sear they then my soul those serpent fangs of woe Fangs of heart-serpents unrelenting! Then burn my dreams: in care my soul is drown'd and dead Black heavy thoughts come thronging o'er me; Remembrance then unfolds with finger slow and dread Her long and doomful scroll before me