She writes to him to come to her.

Dead lie the dreams we cherished,

The dreams we loved so well;

Like forest leaves they perished,

Like autumn leaves they fell.

Alas! that dreams so soon should pass!

Alas! Alas!

The stream lies bleak and arid

That once went singing on;

The flowers once that varied

Its banks are dead and gone:

Where these were once are thorns and thirst —

The place is curst.

Come to me; I am lonely:

Forgive what you have heard.—

Come to me; if for only

One last sad parting word:

For one last word before the pall

Falls over all.

The day and hour are suited

For what I'd say to you

Of love that I uprooted —

But I have suffered too!

Come to me; I would say good-by

Before I die.