Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 34 1833.pdf/21



Oh! art thou still on earth, my Love? My only Love! Or smiling in a brighter home, Far, far above?

Oh! is thy sweet voice fled, my Love? Thy light step gone? And art thou not, in Earth or Heaven, Still, still my own?

I see thee with thy gleaming hair, In midnight-dreams: But cold, and clear, and spirit-like, Thy soft eye seems.

Peace in thy saddest hour, my Love! Dwelt on thy brow; But something mournfully divine There shineth now:

And silent ever is thy lip, And pale thy cheek:— Oh! art thou Earth's, or art thou Heaven's? Speak to me, speak!