At the mid
hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
To the lone
vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;
And
I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air
To
revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there,
And tell me our love is remember'd even in the sky.
Then I sing
the wild song it once was rapture to hear,
When our
voices commingling breathed like one on the ear;
And
as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls,
I
think, 0 my love! 'tis thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls
Faintly
answering still the notes that once were so dear.
-Thomas
Moore
