Must needs a stranger be,

Whose every exiled day gone by

Aches with their memory.

[Pg 38]

[Pg 38]

WHERE?

Where is my love—

In silence and shadow she lies,

Under the April-grey, calm waste of the skies;

And a bird above,

In the darkness tender and clear,

Keeps saying over and over, Love lies here!

Not that she's dead;

Only her soul is flown

Out of its last pure earthly mansion;

And cries instead

In the darkness, tender and clear,

Like the voice of a bird in the leaves, Love—love lies here.

[Pg 39]

[Pg 39]

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