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 for ever.
“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.