Separation

AND so we twain must part! Oh linger yet,

And let me still feed my glance upon thine eyes.

Forget not, love, the days of our delight,

And I our nights of bliss shall ever prize.

In dreams thy shadowy image I shall see,

Oh, even in my dream be kind to me!

Though I were dead, I none the less would hear

Thy step, thy garment rustling on the sand.

And if thou waft me greetings from the grave,

I shall drink deep the breath of that cold land.

Take thou my days, command this life of mine,

If it can lengthen out the space of thine.

No voice I hear from lips death-pale and chill,

Yet deep within my heart it echoes still,

My frame remains—my soul to thee yearns forth.

A shadow I must tarry still on earth.

Back to the body dwelling here in pain,

Return, my soul, make haste and come again!