This page has been validated.
THE VIOLIN
199
Swooning away beneath his faltering fingers
Till the grieved plaint seemed, echoless, to die;
When, calm, he rose, and with a touch that lingers,
Laid me forever by.
Forever! Ah, he comes no more—my lover!
And all my spirit wrapped in trance-like sleep,
Darkling I dream that such a night doth cover
His grief with hush as deep.
