Foreword

When I die, all alone,
I shall look at last
For thy tender face, my own,
Thy face, belovèd,
So far removèd
From all our happy past...

Nay, all day, all day long
Still thou lingerest here...
Halting in its muffled song,
Thy voice, unaltered,
Still murmurs, faltered,
The old words still as dear.

Thou art dead, years ago,
Dead and in the grave;
I am all alone, I know...
And yet how often
Thy kind eyes soften,
And smile and guide and save!

Smilest thou, angel-ghost?...
Yet, no heavens ope!
All thou art I had, and lost;
And now remember
O'er life's dull ember
Nor call my dream a hope.