So hard I strove to crowd you from my heart,
You who once loved, but love me now no more;
Yet all the weary night your face would start
Out of the blackness and the midnight's door,
And smile--to mock me!--as it did of yore.

Why is it that your name is on my tongue
When the gray dawn first creeps across the hill?
Why is it, ere the lark his song has sung,
Your voice is in my brain, and singing still
The old, old love that taunts my weakened will?

There is no shore that can resist the sea!
O I have striven to forget in vain;
So give me now the olden memory,
Come, if you will, through distance and bleak rain;
Come, if you will, although you bring me pain!