I saw them laughing, smiling gladly,—
I saw them ruin’d utterly;
I heard them weeping, dying sadly,—
And yet I utter’d not a sigh.
Each corpse I as a mourner follow’d,
Yea, to the churchyard follow’d I,
And then—with appetite I swallow’d,
My noontide meal, I’ll not deny.
I now recall that band long perish’d,
With feelings sadden’d and oppress’d:
Like sudden glowing love once cherish’d
They strangely storm within my breast.
And most ’tis Juliet’s tears so burning
That in my memory spring to light;
My sadness turns to ceaseless yearning,
I call upon her day and night.
In feverish dreams, with soft emotion
The faded flower oft comes again;
Methinks a posthumous devotion
To my love’s glow it offers then.
O gentle phantom, clasp me often
With strong and ever stronger power;
Unto my lips press thine, and soften
The bitterness of this last hour.
VI.
Thou wast a maiden fair, so good and kindly,
So neat, so cool—in vain I waited blindly
Till came the hour wherein thy gentle heart
Would ope, and inspiration play its part.
Yea, inspiration for those lofty things
Which prose and reason deem but wanderings,
But yet for which the noble, lovely, good
Upon this earth rave, suffer, shed their blood.
Upon the Rhine’s fair strand, where vine-hills smile,
Once in glad summer days we roam’d the while;
Bright laugh’d the sun, sweet incense in that hour
Stream’d from the beauteous cup of every flower.