As she hears my walk,

And sadly smileth

Through mists of tears;

We mournfully talk

Of departed years.

She downward droopeth

Her beautiful head,

And a blue-bell seemeth

That blossometh down;

Trembling with dread,

Lest the sky should frown.

She dearer seemeth

Than ever before.

She gently chideth

[Pg 20]

My more distant way.

At her heart's one door

I entered to-day.

No palace standeth

As happy as this.

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