And my soul and body breaking
Swift apart.
Joy! my spirit soon shall hold her
And forever more enfold her,
Heart to heart.
THE COMMON LOT.
Choriambic.
Sweet bird, sitting so sad singing your song there on the limb alone,
Why make all the sad world sympathize with every mournful tone?
Ah yes! weep then, my dear, over the loss of the dear one you love:
All hearts weep with you, dear, weep for some heart lured to the land above.