The words I write now may not seem so true,
And neither shall I plead forgiveness, dear,
For all I said and did just to hurt you.
For who shall see my grief, or the lone tear
That falls upon your grave besides the sea;
To whom shall I turn now? Who is all mine?
Sweet death, which lifts your soul to be set free?
Or Life, which is mortal, thus not divine?
I hearken! Yet I know, ‘tis but in sleep
I feel he sound your heart beats on mine own;
But when I see the dawn, I cease to weep
And thoughts of loss I can’t help but disown.
For when I weigh the smiles against the frowns,
My lone tear ‘mid the sea rapidly drowns.