Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 34, Page 860
VI.
THE INVOCATION.
Oh! art thou still on earth, my Love?
My only Love!
Or smiling in a brighter home,
Far, far above?
Oh! is thy sweet voice fled, my Love?
Thy light step gone?
And art thou not, in Earth or Heaven,
Still, still my own?
I see thee with thy gleaming hair,
In midnight-dreams:
But cold, and clear, and spirit-like,
Thy soft eye seems.
Peace in thy saddest hour, my Love!
Dwelt on thy brow;
But something mournfully divine
There shineth now:
And silent ever is thy lip,
And pale thy cheek:—
Oh! art thou Earth's, or art thou Heaven's?
Speak to me, speak!
