From the cold, faded world whence thou art gone,
To hear no more life’s troubled billows roll,
I come! I come!
Now speak to me again! we loved so well—
We loved!—oh! still, I know that still we love!
I have left all things with thy dust to dwell,
Through these dim aisles in dreams of thee to rove:
This is my home!
Speak to me in the thrilling minster’s gloom!
Speak! thou hast died, and sent me no farewell!