106
PROPHECY.
PROPHECY.
HERE 'S a clasp upon my fingers,There's a kiss upon my brow,
In my ear Love's breathing lingers,—
But, alas, it is not thou!
Since I walk no more with thee,
O, the days have come to be
Dreary, dreary unto me;—
Best beloved, where art thou?
In these sweet, prophetic mornings,
When the brown buds load the bough,
And the air brings summer warnings,
All my heart cries, "Where art thou?"
Still my heart, forevermore
Yearning toward the misty shore,
Keeps repeating o'er and o'er,
"Best beloved, where art thou?"
When the brown buds load the bough,
And the air brings summer warnings,
All my heart cries, "Where art thou?"
Still my heart, forevermore
Yearning toward the misty shore,
Keeps repeating o'er and o'er,
"Best beloved, where art thou?"
When my soul grows faint with pining,
And at death's behest I bow,
And at death's behest I bow,
