The fairest flower that blossomed there
Is withered on its stalk.”
The ghost says:—
“What is it that you want of me,
And will not let me sleep?
Your salten tears they trickle down
My winding sheet to steep.”
She replies that she has come to return his kisses to him, so as to be off with her engagement. To this the dead man replies:—
“Cold are my lips in death, sweetheart,
My breath is earthy strong,