For other versions of this work, see Of Future Days.
OF FUTURE DAYS
Ido not ask to know
Whither thy spirit after death shall go;
I only ask that I—where'er thou be—
May follow thee.
All torment and regret
Thou, with thy love, couldst teach me to forget;
And heaven—Alas! what hope of heaven for me
Bereft of thee?
Nay: faithless doubt and fear
I lose in Him who gave thee to me, dear!
He would not so unite to rend apart,
Who made the heart!