I muse alone in the fading light,
Where the mournful winds forever
Sweep down from the dim old hills of night,
Like the wail of a haunted river.
Alone! by the grave of a buried love,
The ghostly mist is parted,
Where the stars shine faint in the blue above,
Like the smile of the broken-hearted.
The living turn from my fond embrace,
As if no love were needed;
The tears I wept on thy young dead face
Were never more unheeded
Than my wild prayer for peace unwon--
One pure affection only,
One faithful heart to lean upon,
When life is sad and lonely.
The low grassy roof, my glorious dead,
Is bright with the buttercup's blossom,
And the night-blooming roses burn dimly and red
On the green sod that covers thy bosom.
Thy pale hands are folded, oh beautiful saint,
Like lily-buds chilly and dew-wet,
And the smile on thy lip is as solemn and faint
As the beams of a norland sunset.
The angel that won thee a long time ago
To the shore of the glorious immortals,
In the sphere of the starland shall wed us, I know,
When I pass through the beautiful portals.