Farewell ! the night hath closed at last
O'er my day dream of happiness.
Hope, joy and peace—all these are past,
The loving look, the kind caress.

The dear delight which warmed my heart—
The body and the mystery
Of love, divinest, purest part
Of the soul's wealth—has fled from me.

Throb, tender heart! It throbs in vain—
In vain ye tender passions burn!
The generous bliss, the pleasing pain—
Ah, these can never more return.

Back, back, ye thronging thoughts, no more
Me mock with your delusive light!
The fancies which your glad beams bore
Have faded in eternal night.

Frown solemnly, ye dizzy clouds,
And cast dull shadows o'er the earth—
Drink up the moon! my griefs, as shrouds,
Have muffled up the heart's quick mirth.

Wave high, ye overhanging woods,
And whisper sadly of the tomb.
Lonely I trace your solitudes,
And haunt your melancholy gloom.

The hour of darkness, storm and fears
Broods o'er the dim, benighted plain.
There let me go, and mingle tears
With passionate weeping of the rain.