I meet thy pensive, moonlight face; <br />Thy thrilling voice I hear; <br />And former hours and scenes retrace, <br />Too fleeting, and too dear! <br /> <br />Then sighs and tears flow fast and free, <br />Though none is nigh to share; <br />And life has nought beside for me <br />So sweet as this despair. <br /> <br />There are crush'd hearts that will not break; <br />And mine, methinks, is one; <br />Or thus I should not weep and wake, <br />And thou to slumber gone. <br /> <br />I little thought it thus could be <br />In days more sad and fair <br />That earth could have a place for me, <br />And thou no longer there. <br /> <br />Yet death cannot our hearts divide, <br />Or make thee less my own: <br />Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side <br />Than watching here alone. <br /> <br />Yet never, never can we part, <br />While Memory holds her reign: <br />Thine, thine is still this wither'd heart, <br />Till we shall meet again.<br /><br />Henry Francis Lyte<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-lost-love/
