Now, Mary, Now the Struggle 's O'er

Now, Mary, now the struggle 's o'er--
The war of pride and love;
And, Mary, now we meet no more,
Unless we meet above.

Too well thou know'st how much I loved!
Thou knew'st my hopes how fair!
But all these hopes are blighted now,
They point but to despair.

Thus doom'd to ceaseless, hopeless love,
I haste to India's shore;
For here how can I longer stay,
And call thee mine no more?

Now, Mary, now the struggle 's o'er;
And though I still must love,
Yet, Mary, here we meet no more,
Oh, may we meet above!