Page:Mandragora.djvu/64

 {|align=center And the forests beckon you.
 * And the moonlit pastures yearn to your side,

Each night, each night ere my eyelids fall I shall feel you calling to me, With a low persistent plaintive call. Like a sea-bird lost on the sea!

And I shall answer and you will hear, And above the wind and rain The people a strange sobbing will hear; We shall be together again.

Oh that at this last hour The word might be given me To tell you the power — the power That you have over me!
 * }