My dearest Mary, wherefore hast thou gone, And left me in this dreary world alone? Thy form is here indeed--a lovely one-- But thou art fled, gone down the dreary road, That leads to Sorrow's most obscure abode; Thou sittest on the hearth of pale despair, Where For thine own sake I cannot follow thee.
Public domain. Source: PoetryDB. Reproduced verbatim; see theanthology for the full collection.