Ye who will help me in my dying pain, br Speak not a word: let all your voices cease. br Let me but hear some soft harmonious strain, br And I shall die at peace. br br Music entrances, soothes, and grants relief br From all below by which we are opprest; br I pray you, speak no word unto my grief, br But lull it into rest. br br Tired am I of all words, and tired of aught br That may some falsehood from the ear conceal, br Desiring rather sounds which ask no thought, br Which I need only feel: br br A melody in whose delicious streams br The soul may sink, and pass without a breath br From fevered fancies into quiet dreams, br From dreaming into death.