Hath “gone before,”
With Hope, that flew beside,
Leaving thee wild
For the dear child
That should have been thy bride—
For her, the fair
And debonair,
That now so lowly lies,
The life upon her yellow hair
But not within her eyes—
Hath “gone before,”
With Hope, that flew beside,
Leaving thee wild
For the dear child
That should have been thy bride—
For her, the fair
And debonair,
That now so lowly lies,
The life upon her yellow hair
But not within her eyes—