Thy voice—its low, soft, fervent, farewell tone
Thrill’d through the tempest of the parting strife,
Like a faint breeze: oh! from that music flown,
Send back one sound, if love’s be quenchless life!
But once, oh! answer me!
In the still noontide, in the sunset’s hush,
In the dead hour of night, when thought grows deep,
When the heart’s phantoms from the darkness rush,
Fearfully beautiful, to strive with sleep—
Spirit! then answer me!