Which wore, when you left them, rich tresses of brown.
One dear faithful sister has faded-and died,
Don't stay till the others both lie by her side.
At night I behold thee, I laugh and I weep,
Alas! I awake, 'tis the vision of sleep;
Disheartened with pleading, and pleading in vain,
Perhaps I may never entreat you again.