Of Lydia not at all.
Lizette Woodworth Reese
298
REMEMBRANCE
Cold in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?
Now—when alone—do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains, on that northern shore,