Phantoms

When in my night, like gaunt, gray phantoms, rise

The wild-eyed hours of brooding revery,

If in my heart a sudden anguish cries

That thou also hast passed away from me,

If I but think that one regretful sigh

Thy joyless love has breathed unaware,

I know not what a barren will to die

Dissolves my strength into a mute despair.

Oh, if upon thy breast I could then lay

My weary head and hear thee sing again

That old sweet song, and as it dies away

Exhale my spirit in its last refrain!