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SONG.
II.
Death standeth by;
She will not die;
With glazéd eye
She looks at her grave: she cannot sleep;
Ever alone
She maketh her moan:
She cannot speak: she can only weep,
For she will not hope.
The thick snow falls on her flake by flake,
The dull wave mourns down the slope,
The world will not change, and her heart will not break.
Death standeth by;
She will not die;
With glazéd eye
She looks at her grave: she cannot sleep;
Ever alone
She maketh her moan:
She cannot speak: she can only weep,
For she will not hope.
The thick snow falls on her flake by flake,
The dull wave mourns down the slope,
The world will not change, and her heart will not break.
