Эдвард Бульвер-Литтон (Edward Bulwer-Lytton)

A Lament

  I stand where I last stood with thee!
                Sorrow, O sorrow!
  There is not a leaf on the trysting-tree;
  There is not a joy on the earth to me;
                Sorrow, O sorrow!
  When shalt thou be once again what thou wert?
  Oh, the sweet yesterdays fled from the heart!
                Have they a morrow?--
  Here we stood, ere we parted, so close side by side;
  Two lives that once part, are as ships that divide
  When, moment on moment, there rushes between
                The one and the other, a sea;--
  Ah, never can fall from the days that have been
                A gleam on the years that shall be!