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ten years ago.
Ten years! ten years! all numbered with the past!
And the revolving months again have brought
That nuptial day. But where are now the hearts
So closely linked? They have been parted!
He is reposing by the church's side,
And she is widowed. In her lonely home,
With her eye fixed upon the weeping clouds,
Which seem to give their tears in sympathy,
And her fair orphan boy beside her knee,
She muses on the past—recalls fair forms,
And faded scenes, and days of happiness,
And looks of love, and words of holy trust—
And asks her heart if it indeed be true
That she has lost them all.
And the revolving months again have brought
That nuptial day. But where are now the hearts
So closely linked? They have been parted!
He is reposing by the church's side,
And she is widowed. In her lonely home,
With her eye fixed upon the weeping clouds,
Which seem to give their tears in sympathy,
And her fair orphan boy beside her knee,
She muses on the past—recalls fair forms,
And faded scenes, and days of happiness,
And looks of love, and words of holy trust—
And asks her heart if it indeed be true
That she has lost them all.
A widow's grief!
There are no words can speak it. He who gave
A language unto man, gave him no power
To syllable such sorrow. They had loved
Too ardently for those whom death must sever—
Loved, 'till the full o'erladen heart had throbbed
With all its weight of untold tenderness.
He had been more than all the world to her,
There are no words can speak it. He who gave
A language unto man, gave him no power
To syllable such sorrow. They had loved
Too ardently for those whom death must sever—
Loved, 'till the full o'erladen heart had throbbed
With all its weight of untold tenderness.
He had been more than all the world to her,
