I think I know how this ends

I think I now know how this ends.
It’s a dream, a recurring dream,
That has come upon me often.
Misty morning, fog wafting in
Through the broken windows,
I lurch up from my bed, a faint
Murmur carelessly passing through
My ears; My head feels light,
My mind blank, the world has disappeared,
For as I look around, I see where that
Faint murmur comes from -
That crumpled piece of white bed-sheet
(For yes,  I did sleep with her) ,
By which so many endless nights had
Been spent gazing at the starry dynamo,
Now,
Damped by the absence of the usual
Weight over it; It comes from over there,
Springs up on me
And let’s me know its gone,
Let’s me know that the voice which
Shook me awake,
The hand that stirred up my soul
To the sweet pleasure of the early morning,
To the joy of living and only living,
Is dead.