Leila, thou art resting well,
In thy lonely, narrow cell-
Dark and lonely, narrow cell,-
And I would with thee had died,
And was sleeping by thy side,-
In the graveyard by thy side,-
She who gave thee being, she
Who made life a joy to me,-
A blessing and a joy to me.

Were she with thee, I could bear
All life's agony and care,-
Bitter agony and care,-
But alas, she went astray
From the straight and narrow way,-
Virtue's straight and narrow way-
And, O misery, became
To her sex a thing of shame,-
A thing of infamy and shame.

Now, of her and thee bereft,
Naught have I to live for left,-
Naught on earth to live for left;-
And with bleeding heart I roam,
From a desecrated home,-
A broken, desecrated home,-
Looking, longing for the day
When my life shall ebb away,-
To its giver, ebb away.

For I feel, a God of love,
In the better land above,-
Brighter, better land above,-
To these yearning arms again,
With a soul all free from stain,-
Free from every earthly stain,-
Will the wanderer restore,
To be tempted nevermore-
Passion-tempted nevermore.