From her dead face and looked in mine. Ah, God!
It haunts me, scares me, will not let me sleep.
When will he come and tell me he forgives
And loves me still? Oh, bid him come,
Come quickly, come and let me die in peace.
I could not help it; I was mad;
But I repent, I suffer; he at least
Should pity and forgive. Oh, make him come
And say he loves me, and then let me die.
I shall be ready then to die; but now