XVMARGARET'S ROOM

MARGARET (at the spinning-wheel, alone) My peace is gone, My heart is sore: I never shall find it, Ah, nevermore!

Save I have him near. The grave is here; The world is gall And bitterness all.

My poor weak head Is racked and crazed; My thought is lost, My senses mazed.

My peace is gone, My heart is sore: I never shall find it, Ah, nevermore!

To see him, him only, At the pane I sit; To meet him, him only, The house I quit.

His lofty gait, His noble size, The smile of his mouth, The power of his eyes,

And the magic flow Of his talk, the bliss In the clasp of his hand, And, ah! his kiss!

My peace is gone, My heart is sore: I never shall find it, Ah, nevermore!

My bosom yearns For him alone; Ah, dared I clasp him, And hold, and own!

And kiss his mouth, To heart's desire, And on his kisses At last expire!