Page:The Raven; with literary and historical commentary.djvu/49



ISADORE.

HOU art lost to me forever,—I have lost thee, Isadore,— Thy head will never rest upon my loyal bosom more. Thy tender eyes will never more gaze fondly into mine. Nor thine arms around me lovingly and trustingly entwine:

Thou art dead and gone, dear, loving wife,—thy heart is still and cold,— And I at one stride have become most comfortless and old. Of our whole world of love and song, thou wast the only light, A star, whose setting left behind, ah! me, how dark a night!