As I sang, I looked earnestly at the face so vaguely revealed before me. I fancied, yet believed it to be but fancy, that through the dim veil of the alabaster, I saw a motion of the head as if caused by a sinking sigh. I gazed more earnestly, and concluded that it was but fancy. Neverthless I could not help singing again—

            "Rest is now filled full of beauty,
             And can give thee up, I ween;
             Come thou forth, for other duty
             Motion pineth for her queen.

            "Or, if needing years to wake thee
             From thy slumbrous solitudes,
             Come, sleep-walking, and betake thee
             To the friendly, sleeping woods.

             Sweeter dreams are in the forest,
             Round thee storms would never rave;
             And when need of rest is sorest,
             Glide thou then into thy cave.

            "Or, if still thou choosest rather
             Marble, be its spell on me;
             Let thy slumber round me gather,
             Let another dream with thee!"

Again I paused, and gazed through the stony shroud, as if, by very force of penetrative sight, I would clear every lineament of the lovely face. And now I thought the hand that had lain under the cheek, had slipped a little downward. But then I could not be sure that I had at first observed its position accurately. So I sang again; for the longing had grown into a passionate need of seeing her alive—

            "Or art thou Death, O woman? for since I
                Have set me singing by thy side,
             Life hath forsook the upper sky,
                And all the outer