I said, "The staff of my life is gone;
The woman I loved is no more.
"On her cold, dead bosom my portrait lies
Which next to her heart she used to wear,—
Haunting it o'er with her tender eyes
When my own face was not there.
"It is set all round with rubies red,
And pearls which a Peri might have kept;
For each ruby there my heart hath bled;
For each pearl my eyes have wept."