Beneath the crossway buried,
The suicide lies here,
Where grows a charming blue flow’ret,
The culprit-flower so dear.
I stood by the crossway sighing,
The night was chilly and drear,
While slowly moved in the moonlight
The culprit-flower so dear.
68.
Wheresoe’er I go, there darkles
Round me gloom and utter night,
Now that there no longer sparkles
On me, love, thine eyes’ sweet light.
Quench’d are all the golden blisses
That love’s star upon me smil’d;
’Neath my feet the dread abyss is,—
Night primeval, take thy child!
69.
Night lay upon mine eyelids,
Upon my mouth lay lead;
I in my grave was lying,
With frozen heart and head.
How long it was I know not
That I in slumber lay;
I woke and heard a knocking
Upon my grave one day.
“Wilt thou not rise up, Henry?
“The Judgment Day is this,
“The dead have all arisen,
“To taste of endless bliss.”
I cannot rise, my darling,
For I have lost my sight;
Mine eyes, through very weeping,
Are veil’d in darkest night.