Scene XV
Margaret’s Room
Margaret
At the spinning-wheel, alone
My peace is gone,My heart is sore:I never shall find it,Ah, nevermore!
Save I have him near.The grave is here;The world is gallAnd bitterness all.
My poor weak headIs racked and crazed;My thought is lost,My senses mazed.
My peace is gone,My heart is sore:I never shall find it,Ah, nevermore!
To see him, him only,At the pane I sit;To meet him, him only,The house I quit.
His lofty gait,His noble size,The smile of his mouth,The power of his eyes,
And the magic flowOf his talk, the blissIn the clasp of his hand,And, ah! his kiss!
My peace is gone,My heart is sore:I never shall find it,Ah, nevermore!
My bosom yearnsFor him alone;Ah, dared I clasp him,And hold, and own!
And kiss his mouth,To heart’s desire,And on his kissesAt last expire!