And your warm breath on my cheek,
And I still keep listening for the words
You never more may speak.
’Tis but a step down yonder lane,
And the little church stands near,
The church where we were wed, Mary;
I see the spire from here.
But the graveyard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest;
For I’ve laid you, darling, down to sleep,