In Heaven

My lady sits at Beatrice's feet,
Holding her hands, and gazing in her eyes,
Breathing against her bosom all her sighs
For one who doth by day and night repeat
Her name, he finds so sad yet finds so sweet.
And she, in her Itahan voice, replies,
"Nay, sister, have no fear, Love never dies!
And Love will lead him here, and ye shall meet."

I know when Dante, in his lady's ear.
Murmurs his last sweet lay of her, my love
Sits silent, thinking of a by-gone year.
When one, so speaking, sought her heart to move;
Then Beatrice understands, and bows,
And kisses tenderly her lips and brows.