_To Heaven with all my soul I prayed to prevent your going;_
_Already, to keep you with me, answers the blessed rain._
So passes the period of illusion. The rest is doubt and pain; only the
love remains to challenge even death:--
I
_Parted from you, my beloved, I go alone to the pine-field;_
_There is dew of night on the leaves; there is also dew of tears._