And flowers in coloured crowds;
Weep, nightingale, on yonder tree,—
Cool winds dropped from the clouds.
All dark around the earth and sky,
All lonely here I mourn.
My love is gone,—light of my eye;
I sob and weep forlorn.
Alas, no more he cares for me—
He left me unconsoled;
He pierced my heart, then cruelly