But there must be something warmer than gold to brighten Aimee's sky,
And I hav'nt much faith in a man who could win such a prize by a lie.
But Heaven is good that I found him not when my soul was passion rife,
'Twould only have brought her grief, for my aim was a life for a life,
Well-a-day! come here "Chronicle," let us see if you have a word
To calm the current of burning thoughts that down to their depths are
stirred,
I'll read the first thing I meet with, murders, fires, or kingdoms riven;
Oh you are the first on the page, "Vera, to her lover in Heaven."
"My lover why is it this night of storms,
My thoughts are ever turning to thee?
You who are sheltered from all the blast,
Hear the murmuring sounds of the crystal sea.
"My lover; do you remember the day,
When last my hands were in yours entwined,
And the air was faint with the summer flowers,
While a roll of thunder came on the wind.
"My lover; who always spoke words of love,
The tone of thy voice is so clear but far,
A bridge is between us I cannot cross,
But God's will stands at each end of the bar.
"My lover; did you with your mist-cleared eyes,
See me when I thought you were far away,
Did you bring down Hope from your new-found skies,
While my heart was breaking over your clay?
"My lover; how long have the seasons been,
Since I tried to spell out the small word 'wait,'
And learnt to know that your love and life,
Grow ever more strong as the years grow late.
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