Edith, the silent stars are coldly gleaming,
  The night wind moans, the leafless trees are still.
Edith, there is a life beyond this seeming,
  So sleeps the ice-clad lake beneath thy hill.

So silent beats the pulse of thy pure heart,
  So shines the thought of thy unquestioned eyes.
O life! why wert thou helpless in thy art?
  O...