Response

                         I come! I come! 
Thy voice is in my ears — a spirit tone
     With its mysterious power my heart to thrill, 
And waken, with a music all its own,
     Sweet memories of the past my soul to fill. 
It hath been with me when the starry night
     Looked on me with kind eyes; and in my hair, 
And on my fevered cheek, like drops of light,
     Glittered soft dew: it whispers in the air 
That fans my brow, as listlessly I lean 
From the low casement, where the woodbine green 
And fragrant jasmine cling; its cadences
     Distinct and clear, with gradual fall and swell 
Like the weird murmuring of the forest trees
     Heard in the twilight hour, are as a spell 
Of witchery to my soul — too deeply fraught 
With one intense, o'ermastering, burning thought, 
To heed aught else. So let my spirit drink 
That wondrous music, poured from heaven's brink 
                         O, best beloved! I come!

                         I come! I come! 
The world is dark since it hath lost the light
     Of thy clear eyes; and midnight's starless gloom 
Hath brooded o'er my soul, and from its sight
     Shut the sweet face of day. When closed the tomb 
Over thy peerless form, my lone heart died
     Alike to hope and fear, to love and hate; 
Since that dark hour, sustained alone by pride,
     I've trod the paths of men disconsolate. 
Now, I am weary, weary; I would come 
To thee, sweet spirit! — to thy radiant home 
Where love and sorrow mingle not as here,
     Nor throb with burning anguish heart and brain. 
Nor once bright eyes grow dim with many a tear
     Nor strives the soul with life's consuming pain. 
O, not to mock us hath this boon of heaven, 
All-conquering, all-sustaining love, been given; 
So shall the ties that death hath torn apart 
Again be knit, uniting heart with heart! 
                         I hear thy voice — I come!