Where are my faithful guides now? where those bright
whirling lights? On the day I die shall I
see him again? surely no-one could be
expected to stand this living death for
so long for nothing. When shall I hear him,
his welcoming tone and words like these: "Live,
dry your eyes; you've cried enough; here he is,
the strength you existed upon, he God
gave you." I ache to be allowed to kiss
the hand I long to touch, speak to it more
than once of my incomparable grief?
A happiness beyond all, if ruthless
Lady Luck does not prevent me, grants this,
the hot desire in me be sated.
From B A2:37:74. In MS RA. Key