Hark! Hark, what I tell to thee,
Nor sorrow o'er the tomb
My spirit wanders free,
And waits till thine shall come.
All pensive and alone,
I see thee sit and weep,
Thy head upon the stone
Where my cold ashes sleep.
I watch thy speaking eyes,
And mark each falling tear
I catch thy passing sighs,
Ere they are lost in air.