If

(The Argosy, March 1866.)     If he would come to-day, to-day, to-day,         O, what a day to-day would be!     But now he's away, miles and miles away         From me across the sea.     O little bird, flying, flying, flying         To your nest in the warm west,     Tell him as you pass that I am dying,         As you pass home to your nest.     I have a sister, I have a brother,         A faithful hound, a tame white dove;     But I had another, once I had another,         And I miss him, my love, my love!     In this weary world it is so cold, so cold,         While I sit here all alone;     I would not like to wait and to grow old,         But just to be dead and gone.     Make me fair when I lie dead on my bed,         Fair where I am lying:     Perhaps he may come and look upon me dead -         He for whom I am dying.     Dig my grave for two, with a stone to show it,         And on the stone write my name;     If he never comes, I shall never know it,         But sleep on all the same.