HARK what I tell to thee,
Nor sorrow o'er the tomb,
My spirit wanders free,
And waits till thine shall come.

All pensive and alone,
I see thee sit and weep,
Thy head upon the stone,
Where my cold ashes sleep.
I watch thy speaking eyes,
And mark each precious tear,
I catch thy parting sighs,
Ere they are lost in air.
Hark what I tell to thee, &c. &c.