We were young, we were merry, we were very very wise
And the door stood open at our feast
When there pass'd a woman with the West in her eyes
And a man with his back to the East.

O still grew the hearts that were beating so fast,
The loudest voice was still.
The jest died away on our lips as they passed
And the rays of June struck chill.

The cups of red wine turned pale upon the board,
The white bread black as soot.
The hound forgot the hand of her lord,
She fell down at his foot.

Low let me lie, where the dead dog lies
Ere I sit me down again at a feast
Where there passes a woman with the West in her eyes
And a man with his back to the East.
 

Copyright: The Munch Museum/The Munch-Ellingsen Group
The Ashes by Edvard Munch

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