SOFTLY she comes at the close of day And stands beside my chair, The thrush calls loudly from topmost spray, Lightens the evening star. So, in the dusk of that twilight land, When those we love draw nigh, I take once more that belovéd hand, Her lips to mine comply. Once more for us 'neath the fading skies A veil of blue is drawn, Once more for us in each other's eyes Is the gleam of a love-lit dawn. She is gone! she is fled! and the shadow I chase Will neither turn, nor hear! Ah God! that the loss of one loved face Can leave the world so drear. |