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the consumptive.
Here, clasp me closer to thy heart,
And lay thy hand upon my brow;—
And say, beloved, when I am gone,
Thou wilt not mourn for my return;
Life's feverish dreams are almost o'er,—
We part, dear friend, to meet no more
On earth; but ties, thus rudely riven,
Will soon be fondly blent in heaven!"
And lay thy hand upon my brow;—
And say, beloved, when I am gone,
Thou wilt not mourn for my return;
Life's feverish dreams are almost o'er,—
We part, dear friend, to meet no more
On earth; but ties, thus rudely riven,
Will soon be fondly blent in heaven!"
She spoke no more, her breath failed fast,
She gave one look—it was the last—
'Twas full of faith, and hope, and love;
Then raising her dying eyes above.
He sadly bowed himself and wept:
The servants deemed their lady slept,
And wondered at the grief so wild
That bowed their master like a child;
But soon the truth upon them broke—
She wept indeed, but never woke!
She gave one look—it was the last—
'Twas full of faith, and hope, and love;
Then raising her dying eyes above.
He sadly bowed himself and wept:
The servants deemed their lady slept,
And wondered at the grief so wild
That bowed their master like a child;
But soon the truth upon them broke—
She wept indeed, but never woke!
Not long he lingered here below,
With none to soothe his silent woe:
With none to soothe his silent woe:
