Or despair for you alway ? ...
Could I clasp your hand again! ...
Nameless grave has love that's dead!
On that low mound, stain'd with tears,
Falls no light but memory's, shed
Thro' the darkening mists of years. ...
But I see you standing there,
Like the ghost of love arisen,
And to your soul mine in prison
Breathes a sigh that seems a prayer!
Did no shadow fall across
Paths of old together trod?
Still the winds the white wheat toss,
Still the sun-lit golden-rod
Blooms - and love is gone. ... To you
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The Yale and Second Regiment Games.