With laughing eyes and storm-blown hair
You came to my bedside;
I thought your living soul was there,
And that my dreams had lied;

But ere my lips had power to speak
A word of love to you,
The moonlight fell upon your cheek,
And it was of death's hue.

Sudden I heard the storm arise,
I heard its summons roll:
Wistful and wondering your eyes
Were fading from my soul.

The moonlight waned, and shadows thick
Went keening on the storm--
Ah! for the quiet that was quick,
The cold heart that was warm!