I Have Wandered Far Away

I've wandered far from thee, my dear, departed soul,
But be I anywhere, sad recollections roll
Back to thy grave, as if they found a deep,

dark line
Which from thy tomb runneth to where
I might repine.

I have returned to thee, I could not greet thee
though
With loving kiss, thou art within the grave below.
Like weeping willow tree its crown: I bend my
head,
Not on thy soft breast but the hard head-stone
instead.

My fingers play, not with thy silken hair, they play
With blade o'grass which sprung up from thy

earthly clay.
The whispers which I hear not from thy sweet

lips rise,
The gentle winds that blow bear but the

graveyard's sighs.

Thus I am lost in thought while on thy grave I gaze,
And quieted and calm I think of bygone days.
My mind is all at peace, the tempest of my woe
Has run its course, has ceased many a day ago.

A calm sea is the past, thy death has been the rock
On which the barge of hope I steered, met with

the shock

, Which upset it. That rock now, in the distant blue

Marks the horizon which with quiet heart I view.
And it shall rise before my eyes fore'er and e'er!

Thy picture, Ethel dear, within my heart I'll bear
Until I die. Upon thy tomb the wreath must fade
Within my heart e'er green thy memory,

sweet maid!