Oft he said softly, while melting eyes glistened,
"Sweet is my life, love, with you ever near:"
Morning and evening she waited and listened
For a voice and a foot-step that never came near.
Fainting at last, on her threshold she found him:
"Life is but ashes, and bitter," he sighed.
She, with her tender arms folded around him,
Whispered—"But love is still sweet;" and so died.