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The dawn grew pale; the garden lost its hue,
As silence crept where once the night had sung.
Thy voice, once clear as crystal morning dew,
Now trembled faint upon a foreign tongue.
The wind grew cold; the lilies closed their eyes,
And I beheld the sorrow in thine own;
Our heaven dimmed beneath those darkening skies,
Two hearts still near, yet utterly alone.
I sought thy hand, but distance filled the space,
Invisible, yet heavy as a chain;
A single tear slid down thy quiet face,
A pearl of loss, a monument of pain.
So love that bloomed in golden ecstasy,
Now bled beneath the veil of destiny. |
