Where is it that our soul doth go?

Too late come now your smiles of promise,

Alas! they come too late, your sighs!

Long time has died the love within me

You cruelly once did despise.

Too late comes now your love and tardy!

And all your ardent glances fall

Upon a heart, cold, irresponsive,

Like sunshine on a grave withal.

*

One thing I'd know: when we have perished,

Where is it that our soul doth go?

Where is the fire that is extinguished?

Where is the wind but now did blow?