If I had thought thou couldst have died, 
I might not weep for thee; 
But I forgot, when by thy side, 
That thou couldst mortal be: 
It never through my mind had past
The time would e'er be o'er, 
And I on thee should look my last, 
And thou shouldst smile no more! 

And still upon that face I look, 
And think 'twill smile again; 
And still the thought I will not brook, 
That I must look in vain. 
But when I speak?thou dost not say 
What thou ne'er left'st unsaid; 
And now I feel, as well I may, 
Sweet Mary, thou art dead! 

If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art, 
All cold and all serene? 
I still might press thy silent heart, 
And where thy smiles have been. 
While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have, 
Thou seemest still mine own; 
But there?I lay thee in thy grave, 
And I am now alone! 

I do not think, where'er thou art, 
Thou hast forgotten me; 
And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart 
In thinking too of thee: 
Yet there was round thee such a dawn 
Of light ne'er seen before, 
As fancy never could have drawn, 
And never can restore!