She writes to him 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: Forgive what you have heard.— Come to me; if for only One last sad parting word: For one last word before the pall Falls 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.