Dom Agostino

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Absence

thou moon, who traverses in queenly grace, across the lonesome heavens thy silent way, who's silvery sheen illumes with borrowed ray, the endless realms of inter-stellar space! Who's tearful beams are sleeping on the snow, that wreaths the grave wherein my love is laid, oh where is she who was the loveliest maid, that ever died, and left a world in woe? Ye gentle winds, now moaning from the west, who's home is out beyond the setting sun, oh tell a soul, who's earthly joys are done, where shalt he find that soul he loved best.

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