I stand where thou hast stood, and I retrace
Each look, each word, each gesture, and each tone,
That marked thy speech, or lightened o'er thy face,
And memory makes them o'er and o'er my own.
I dream I hear thy voice—I start, and rise,
And listen, till my soul grows sick in vain,
The wind flies laughing through the starry skies,
And, save my throbbing heart, all's still again.
I dream I see thy form—with eager clasp,
My longing arms are round the phantom thrown,
It fades, it withers, in my frantic grasp,
I wake—I am alone—O Heaven, alone!
Oh wilt thou ne'er return! can no one day
Give back those blessed hours that fled so fast!
My life is rolling dark and fleet away,
The downward wave will ne'er bring back the past.
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