At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;
And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air
To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there,
And tell me our love is remember'd even in the sky.
Then I sing the wild song it once was rapture to hear,
When our voices commingling breathed like one on the ear;
And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls,
I think, O my love! 'tis thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls
Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.
- Love Lost Poem
by Thomas Moore
With what a deep devotedness of woe
I wept thy absence o'er and o'er again
Thinking of thee, still thee,
till thought grew pain,
And memory, like a drop that,
night and day,
Falls cold and ceaseless,
wore my heart away!
- Thomas Moore