Dreamerboy's last sleep was in the wooden bed; death's rectangular chest, And over him lay the dreams that descended with him, kissing Dreamerboy's Bleaching bones. ...But may his ghost fall on its humble knees, And beg his sweetly sleeping corpse To never rot and have its bones bleached, To never give in to the corruption of the flesh, Lest the beautiful hands that write this bequest Turn into chalk sticks of skeletal bones To write upon walls words that he never said