Vi

She writes to her lover to come to her:

Dead lie the dreams we cherished, The dreams we loved so well; Like forest leaves they perished, Like autumn leaves they fell. Alas! that dreams so soon should pass! Alas! alas!

The stream lies bleak and arid, That once went singing on; The flowers once that varied Its banks are dead and gone: Where these were once are thorns and thirst-- The place is curst.

Come to me. I am lonely. Forget all that occurred. Come to me; if for only One last, sad, parting word: For one last word. Then let the pall Fall over all.

The day and hour are suited For what I ’d say to you Of love that I uprooted.-- But I have suffered, too!-- Come to me; I would say good-by Before I die.