Page:In memoriam (IA inmemoriam00tennrich).pdf/40



of the widower, when he sees A late-lost form that sleep reveals, And moves his doubtful arms, and feels Her place is empty, fall like these;

Which weep a loss for ever new, A void where heart on heart reposed; And, where warm hands have prest and closed, Silence, till I be silent too.

Which weep the comrade of my choice, An awful thought, a life removed, The human-hearted man I loved, A spirit, not a breathing voice.

Come Time, and teach me many years I do not suffer in a dream; For now so strange do these things seem, Mine eyes have leisure for their tears;