Love In Her Cold Grave Lies

Love in her cold grave lies, But that is not my love: My love hath constant eyes, My love her life doth prove; That love, the poorer, dies-- Ah, that is not my love!

Love in her cold grave lies, But she will wake again; With trembling feet will rise, Will call this love in vain, That she doth now despise Ah, love shall wake again!