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A LIFE'S LOSS.
45
You got, that day, what you bargained for,—
My hair to braid your jewels in,
My form to deck with your silken robes,
My face to show to your haughty kin,
But my soul moaned on.
My hair to braid your jewels in,
My form to deck with your silken robes,
My face to show to your haughty kin,
But my soul moaned on.
Talk not of love,—you come too late!
You cannot dispel my heart's eclipse,—
Where your image should be a corpse lies shrined,
And no voice comes from the death-cold lips,
Though my soul moans on.
You cannot dispel my heart's eclipse,—
Where your image should be a corpse lies shrined,
And no voice comes from the death-cold lips,
Though my soul moans on.
Some summer day I shall wander down
Where the waters flow by the ruined mill,—
Where the shadows come, and the shadows go,
There at the foot of the windy hill,
And the stream moans on.
Where the waters flow by the ruined mill,—
Where the shadows come, and the shadows go,
There at the foot of the windy hill,
And the stream moans on.
