Till thou didst loose them once again.
But, oh! they could not spring to meet thine own,
With all the freshness of their early day.
There lived the memory of the past,
And when I clasped thy hand in mine, and looked
Into thine eyes, and heard thy words of love,
My heart grew dark with sad and tearful thought.
I have remembered me,
That hands which I had clasped in love were now
The earthworms' prey; soft eyes were quenched, and tones