I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow-
First- Chill- then Stupor- then the letting go-
The last gift that death demands
Grief for thy dead
Can we not woo back old delights?
Break, break, break
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind—
But how could I forget thee?
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!