They brought her me--they brought her me--they bore her to my bed;
And first I marked her coffin's form, and saw its jewels glisten.
I talked to her, I wept to her, but she was cold and dead;
I prayed to her, and then I knew she was not here to listen.
For Death had wooed and won my love, and carried her away.
How could she know my trusting heart, and then so sadly grieve me!
Her hand was his, her cheek was his, her lips of ashen gray;
Her heart was never yet for him, however she might leave me;
Her heart was e'er for me.
O waves that well had sunk my life, sweep back to me again!
I will not fight your coming now, or flee from your pursuing!
But bear me, beat me, dash me to the land of Death, and then
I'll find the love Death stole from me, and scorn him with my wooing!
Oh, I will light his gloomy orbs with jealous, mad surprise;
Oh, I will crush his pride, e'en with the lack of my endeavor;
The while I boldly bear away, from underneath his eyes,
The soul that God had made for me to lose no more forever;
Ay, she will go with me.
Pull down the window-lattice, Jane, and turn me in my bed,
And not until the set of sun be anxious for my waking;
And ere that hour a robe of light above me shall be spread,
And darkness here shall show me there the morn that now is breaking.
And in one grave let us be laid--my truant love and me--
And side by side shall rest the hearts that once were one in beating;
And soon together and for aye our wedded souls shall be,
And never cloud shall dim again the brightness of our meeting,
Where now she waits for me.