EONCHES OF RUBY.
131
VIII.
Day after day
I seek thee, but thou art not near!
I sit down by thy grave in the cold clay,
And listen for thy soul!—oh! dear!
And when some withered leaf falls from the tree,
I start as if thy soul had spoke to me!
IX.
And so it is,
And so it evermore must ever be
To him, who has been robbed of all the bliss
He ever knew, by losing thee!
For Misery, in thine absence, is my wife!
What Joy had been, hadst thou remained in life!
X.
It is now even!
The birds have sung themselves to sleep;
And all the stars seem coming out of Heaven,
As if to look upon me weep!—
Oh! let me not look up to thee in vain,
But come back to me in this world again!
