A poem... yes, yes, of course a poem. I like that it is short - it is easier to read. But only it makes you wonder what becomes of the man talking. Do you not find it peaceful, though, Sir? It makes me feel heavy, as if I could sleep forever and have some of the quiet it says. I would like quiet where I am not alone. Often I wandered Paris at night when I was alone - but I had to imagine a companion. It would be nice to just have it. To be with the dead. It would be quiet, I think, and sometimes I have been so tired.

[She finds it hard to explain, really. But it sort of encapsulates a lot of what she has felt in her life, in a way that Eponine could never express herself. And it comforts her to think that she is not the only unhappy soul in the world. This Poe almost feels like a friend to her.]