The first he drew from her face the veil:
“Ah! wert thou alive, thou maiden so pale,”
He said, as he gazed with saddened brow,
“How dearly would I love thee now!”
The second he covered the face anew,
And, weeping, he turned aside from the view:
“Ah me, that thou liest on the cold bier,
The one I have loved for so many a year!”
The third once more uplifted the veil:
He kissed the lips so deadly pale;