And we must meet on earth no more.
No, nor beyond!—to those pure skies
Where thou shalt be, I may not rise;
Heaven’s will for ever parts our lot,
Yet, oh! my child! abhor me not!
Speak once! to soothe this broken heart,
Speak to me once! and then depart!”
But still—as if each pulse were dead,
Mute—as the power of speech were fled,
Pale—as if life-blood ceased to warm