HE and I,—and that was all,—
The boundless world had grown so small:
So small, so narrow in content,
So single in possession sweet,
So personal, so love-complete,
So still, so eloquent!
He and I,—and Earth made new!
The flowers blossomed for us two,
And birds, to voice our rapture, sung
Divinely 'neath our northern skies,
As sung the birds in Paradise
When life and love were young!
He and I,—O aching heart!—
Only a narrow grave apart!
Yet seeking for his face in vain,
How changed, to me, the world has grown;
How cold it seems, how strange, how lone,
How infinite in pain!