Parted cruelly from thee,
What, Oh! what is life to me?
‘ Tis the morn without the lark;
It is wine without its spark.
Christmas time without its glee;
Music without harmony.
New Year's eve devoid of mirth;
Winter night without the hearth.
‘ Tis a day without the light;
‘ Tis a moonless, starless night.
Thorn-bush, barren of its leaf;
Weeping, without its relief.
‘ Tis a fire, but unconsuming;
Poisonous plant, but never blooming.
Ship becalmed, without its peace;
Death, without its sweet release.