ALWAYS I see her in a saintly guise Of lilied raiment, white as her own brow When first I kissed the tear-drops to the eyes That smile forever now. Those gentle eyes! They seem the same to me, As, looking through the warm dews of mine own, I see them gazing downward patiently Where, lost and all alone In the great emptiness of night, I bow And sob aloud for one returning touch Of the dear hands that, Heaven having now, I need so much -- so much! |