Will greet his ears, as when,
From the thickening outer gloom,
He enter'd the twilight room.
For tho' she wait till death
Steals, as air steals smoke, her breath,
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The waited shall never come;
The dead lips are ever dumb
To answer her earnest prayers,
Or whisper away her cares.
O hearts, whom hope hath mockt
Through fate's dark windows lockt,
Surely the lost ye weep
Shall not for ever sleep
Thro' the wide-forgetting years,
Tho' they wake not at your tears!
ED.