Chapter III: From "lost Alice."

Yes, dear, our Love is slain; In the cold grave for evermore it lies, Never to wake again, Or light our sorrow with its starry eyes; And so--regret is vain.

One hour of pain and dread, We killed our Love, we took its life away With the false words we said; And so we watch it, since that cruel day, Silent, and cold, and dead.

We should have seen it shine Long years beside us. Time and Death might try To touch that life divine, Whose strength could every other stroke defy Save only thine and mine.

No longing can restore Our dead again. Vain are the tears we weep, And vainly we deplore Our buried Love: its grave lies dark and deep Between us evermore.