  The day has gone and the night is come, Dreary, dreary, dreary; And hope is dying within my breast, Weary, weary, weary. The pitiless winds sweep the earth in wrath, Drifting, drifting, drifting The fierce white snow, with a wail of woe, Over the wild, dark reaches sifting. I sit by the dim, forsaken hearth, Thinking, thinking, thinking Of a love that ne’er can come to me; Shrinking, shrinking, shrinking From the cold clasp of a fateful hand That shadowed all the years. Dreary without, and dreary within, Dying, dying, dying Is the last hope of a broken life That can love and trust no more. |
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