“My footsteps through the rooms resound all sadly and forlore;
The garish sun shines flauntingly upon the unswept floor;
The mocking-bird still sits and sings a melancholy strain,
For my heart is like a heavy cloud that overflows with rain.
Thou art lost to me for ever, Isadore.”
* * * * *
“Thou art gone from me for ever, I have lost thee, Isadore!
And desolate and lonely shall I be for evermore.
If it were not for our children’s sake, I would not wish to stay,
But would pray to God most earnestly to let me pass away,—