We vowed we would never, no never forget,
And those vows at the time were consoling;—
But the lips that echoed my vows
Are as cold as that lonely river;
The sparkling eye, the spirit’s shrine.
Has shrouded its fire forever.
And now on the midnight sky I look,
My eyes grow full with weeping,—
Each star to me is a sealed book,
Some tale of that loved one keeping.