Of Future Days

I DO not ask to knowWhither thy spirit after death shall go;I only ask that I—where'er thou be—May follow thee.

All torment and regretThou, with thy love, couldst teach me to forget;And heaven—Alas! what hope of heaven for meBereft of thee?

Nay: faithless doubt and fearI lose in Him who gave thee to me, dear!He would not so unite to rend apart,Who made the heart!