Feet under ground—
From a spring that is not very
Far under ground.”
She was a magical singer, surely; and the still, cold melancholy of her tones was the very spirit and essence of death; and, like death, it pierced to the heart. She sang:
“And, oh! let it never
Be foolishly said
That my room it is gloomy,
And narrow my bed.
For man never slept
In a different bed;