A Lost Love

I meet thy pensive, moonlight face; Thy thrilling voice I hear; And former hours and scenes retrace, Too fleeting, and too dear! Then sighs and tears flow fast and free, Though none is nigh to share; And life has nought beside for me So sweet as this despair. There are crush'd hearts that will not break; And mine, methinks, is one; Or thus I should not weep and wake, And thou to slumber gone. I little thought it thus could be In days more sad and fair That earth could have a place for me, And thou no longer there. Yet death cannot our hearts divide, Or make thee less my own: Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side Than watching here alone. Yet never, never can we part, While Memory holds her reign: Thine, thine is still this wither'd heart, Till we shall meet again.