As still he sat and never aware

How close was the spirit beside his chair.

Nay, sad were his thoughts, for he wept and said

Ah, woe for the dead! ah, woe for the dead!

How heavy the earth lies now on her breast,

The lips that I kissed, and the hand I pressed.

The spirit he saw not, he could not hear

The comforting word she spake in his ear:

His heart in the grave with her mouldering clay

No welcome gave—and she fled away.