Burns bright once more, at length expires—'twas so;
Lamented first, then longed for bitterly,
And then—forgotten, love within them perished;
Till an illusion vain it seemed to be
That each the other e'er had cherished.
'Twas only sometimes, in the moon's pale gleam,
They'd from their pillow start: 'twas wet with tears,
And wet with tears their face. They'd had a dream,
I hardly know of what. And then the years
Of bliss, long past, came to their memory;