Westward gazing through my window, Venus shone;
Lit the room where I had all night dreamed alone;
Woke her lustrous eye the slumbering depths of mine,
Kindling sparks among the ashes of lang-syne.
Vainly strove the dawn's first glories through the gloom;
Like my heart, the lonely chamber looked a tomb
Where sweet ghosts, in sad procession, seemed to flow
Past my bed, become a bier, and there bestow
Grief's last kiss upon my brow. — Each tender glance
Thrilled my soul with joy and pain; as in a trance
Shrank within my palsied lips all utterance.
Fading in the dawn the Morn-Star disappears,
And dispels the tender throng, but not my tears;
For I wake with sorrowing heart and aching head, —
Wake to find sweet Venus vanished and Love dead.