Poems (Baldwyn)/The Dying Girl to her Lover
THE DYING GIRL TO HER LOVER.
Oh, will you weep when o'er my grave The bending willows gentle wave, And I am low? Or will you careless pass me by? Will you not breathe one gentle sigh, One thought bestow?
If solitude should win your love, When all is calm below, above; And ling'ring day Paints the clear sky with roseate dyes,The faint air breathes its latest sighs, If ere you stray,—
Will you not seek my silent tomb,Remember how I lost my bloom In loving thee? Yet do not mourn my sad, sad lot;I only would not be forgot:— Oh, think of me!
But if the wish I now express Shall e'en a moment cause distress, Oh, then forget! For I will just as sweetly sleep, Though o'er my grave you do not weep, Or e'er regret.
Ah, soon,—ah, soon it will be o'er, And I will weep no more, no more, But calmly rest. This trembling heart will break at last, With, sad remembrance of the past, So long opprest.
Farewell, farewell! I go, I go; We will not meet again below, My only love; But when thy pilgrimage is past, Shall we not, dearest, meet at last In heaven above?