The Ring And The Winding-Sheet

Why sought you not the silent bower,
The bower, nor hawthorn tree;
Why came you not at evening hour,
Why came you not to me?
Say, does thy heart beat colder now,
Oh! tell me, truly tell,
Than when you kissed my burning brow,
When last you said “Farewell?”

As late my taper I illumed,
To sigh and watch for thee,
It soon thy mystic form assumed
Which lovers smile to see;
But fondly while I gazed upon
And trimm’d the flame with care,
The pledge of plighted love was gone,
The sign of death[2] was there!

Oh say, was this forboding truth?
And wilt thou break thy vow?
And wilt thou blight my opening youth?
And must I–must I now
Meet death’s embrace for that chaste kiss,
That holy kiss you vow’d?
And must I, for my bridal dress,
Be mantled in the shroud?