A thousand times the great clock's heart has beat-- A thousand, thousand times, And ever at the hours the sudden, sweet, Low, unexpected ringing of the chimes Tells how the night doth slowly pass away. The hissing snow fell through the air all day, But with the dark did cease-- I hear the shivers of the frozen trees. The night-lamp's gleam--though weak the flame and small-- Casts shadows giant tall That to the ceiling crawl-- The cap-frill of the sleeping nurse doth fall And nod this way and that against the wall. Quiet the great dark house, and deeply sleep they all-- They held me fast, they could not hear the call That I heard always--chill the winds did blow-- The skies were dark--the ways were white with snow-- He did not call--I wandered to think so. But now they sleep, I will arise and go. They think him dead, but his sweet voice I know. I stretch my hands, my heart beats hard--his voice is sweet and low, But muffled by the weight of earth, and hath a note of woe-- He calls to me: I cannot stay; I must arise and go-- I step out on the floor-- (How loud that nurse doth snore) But I softly close the door. I quickly pass from the outer door. It is very, very cold!-- But he will me closely fold With a tender clasping arm, And still my deep alarm-- In his heart I shall be warm! The snow is smooth as glass. I scarcely leave a foot-print as I pass-- It is very cold, and the way is long, alas! And they have buried him deep, so deep under the frozen grass. It was cruel to bury him so deep; He was not dead, he was only asleep-- He was not dead; it makes me weep To think he is in this frozen ground-- Why does the moon whirl round and round! My head is dizzy; I'm faint and ill-- Will no one make the moon stand still? The foolish moon whirls round and round-- What is it that the pine trees know, That they rustle and whisper together so? Someone was buried under the snow More than a thousand years ago!-- My long black shadow runs by my side. Was it I, or my love that died And was buried deeply under the snow So many hundred years ago? Oh! _how_ can I reach him under the ground? I am burning with fire, my head turns round. He does not call me, I hear no sound-- Ah!--will no one come to me? I'm all alone, The nurse does not hear, she's as deaf as a stone, The walls of the grave together have grown, The dead man lies still and makes no moan, They have left me here with this corpse alone--! His golden hair is tarnished with rust; His eyes have withered and fallen to dust-- His subtle, secret, amber eyes; The worms might have spared those amber eyes-- His lips are grey with dust and sunken; His heart is cold, and his cheeks are shrunken-- He must be dead, so still he lies!