A Lost Love

I meet thy pensive, moonlight face;

Thy thrilling voice I hear;

And former hours and scenes retrace,

Too fleeting, and too dear!

Then sighs and tears flow fast and free,

Though none is nigh to share;

And life has nought beside for me

So sweet as this despair.

There are crush'd hearts that will not break;

And mine, methinks, is one;

Or thus I should not weep and wake,

And thou to slumber gone.

I little thought it thus could be

In days more sad and fair

That earth could have a place for me,

And thou no longer there.

Yet death cannot our hearts divide,

Or make thee less my own:

Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side

Than watching here alone.

Yet never, never can we part,

While Memory holds her reign:

Thine, thine is still this wither'd heart,

Till we shall meet again.