 I loved him not. And yet now he is gone. I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke. Yet could he speak? Alas! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, and wearied all my thought, to vex myself and him. I now would give my love. Could he but live, who lately lived for me? And when he found it was vain. In holy ground he hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath, who wasted his for me. But mine returns, and this lawn bosom burns with stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, and waking me to weep tears that had melted his soft heart. For years wept he as bitter tears. Merciful God! such was his latest prayer. These may she never share. Quiet is his breath, his breast more cold than daisies in the mould, where children spell, a thwart the churchyard gate, his name and life's brief date. Pray for him gentle souls, who ere you be, and oh pray too for me. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Maid's Lament by Walter Savage Landor. Read for LibriVox.org by Caitlin Buckley. I loved him not, and yet now he is gone. I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke, yet could he speak? Alas, I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, and wearied all my thought, to vex myself and him. I now would give my love could he but live, who lately lived for me, and when he found twas vain in holy ground, he hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath, who wasted his for me, but mine returns, and this lorn bosom burns with stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, and waking me to weep tears that had melted his soft heart. For years wept he as bitter tears. Merciful God, such was his latest prayer, these may she never share. Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold than daisies in the mould, where children's spell athwart the churchyard gate, his name, and life's brief date. Pray for him, gentle souls, who ere you be, and oh, pray too for me. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Maids Lament by Walter Savage Lando Rep for LibriVox.org by Chad Horner from Balli Clare in County Antrim, Northern Ireland, sedged it in the north-east of the province of Ulster. I loved him not, and yet now he is gone. I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke, yet could he speak? Alas, I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, I am worried all my thought, to fix himself on me, and now would give my love. Could he but live, who lately lived for me, and when he found, it was vain, in holy ground, he hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath, who wasted his for me. But mine returns, and this lorn bosom burns, with stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, and waking me to weep. Tears that had melted his soft heart, for years wept he as bitter tears, merciful God, such was his latest prayer, these may she never share. Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold than daisies in the mould, where children spell a thwart the churchyard gate. His name and life's breath date. Pray for him, gentle souls, whoever you be, and oh, pray to, for me. End of poem, this recording is in the public demand. The Maids Lament by Walter Savage Landall Read for LibriVox.org by Christina Clarke I loved him not, and yet now he is gone I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke, yet could he speak, alas I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, and worried all my thought to vex myself and him, I now would give my love could he but live, who lately lived for me, and when he found was vain, in holy ground he hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath, who wasted his for me, but mine returns, and this lawn bosom burns, with stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, and waking me to weep tears that had melted his soft heart, for years wept tears bitter tears. Merciful God, such was his latest prayer. These may she never share. Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold than daisies in the mould, where children, spell, a thwart the churchyard gate, his name, and life's breath date. Pray for him, gentle souls, who ere you be, and oh pray too for me. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Domain's Lament by Walter Savage Landor read for LibriVox.org by David Lawrence I loved him not, and yet, now he is gone, I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke, yet could he speak, alas, I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, and wearied all my thought to vex myself and him. I now would give my love, could he but live, who lately lived for me, and when he found was vain, in holy ground he hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath. Who wasted his for me? But mine returns, and this lorn bosom burns with stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep and waking me to weep tears that had melted his soft heart, for years wept he as bitter tears. Merciful God, such was his latest prayer, these may she never share. Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold than daisies in the mould, where children spell a thwart the churchyard gate, his name and life's brief date. Pray for him, gentle souls, who ere you be, and oh, pray too for me. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The maids lament by Walter Savage Lando, read for LibraVox.org by Eva Davis. I loved him not, and yet, now he is gone, I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke, yet could he speak alas I would not check, for reasons not to love him once I sought, and wearied all my thought to vex myself and him. I now would give my love, could he but live who lately lived for me. And when he found to his vein in holy ground he hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath who wasted his for me. But mine returns, and this lawn bosom burns with stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep and waking me to weep tears that had melted his soft heart. For years wept he as bitter tears. Merciful God was his latest prayer, these may she never share. Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold than daisies and mould, where children's spell thwart the churchyard gate, his name and life's brief date. Pray for him gentle souls, who are you be, and all pray too for me. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. The Maids Lament by Walter Savage Lander read for LibriVox.org by Newgate Novelist. I loved him not, and yet now he is gone I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke, yet could he speak alas? I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, and wearied all my thought to vex myself and him, I now would give my love. Could he but live who lately lived for me? And when he found t'was vain, in holy ground he hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath, who wasted his for me. But mine returns, and this lawn bosom burns with stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, and waking me to weep tears that had melted his soft heart. For years wept he as bitter tears. Merciful God, such was his latest prayer, these may she never share. Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold than daisies in the mould where children spell, a thwart to the churchyard gate, his name and life's brief date. Pray for him, gentle souls, who are you be, and oh, pray too for me. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Maid's Lament by Walter Savage Lander Read for LibriVox.org by Graham Scott Cheltenham, England GrahamScottAudio.com I loved him not, and yet now he is gone I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke, yet could he speak, alas I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, and wearied all my thought to vex myself and him, I now would give my love could he but live who lately lived for me, and when he found, to his vein, in holy ground he hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath who wasted his for me, but mine returns, and this lawn bosom burns with stifling heat heaving it up in sleep, and waking me to weep tears that had melted his soft heart. For years wept he as bitter tears. Merciful God, such was his latest prayer, these may she never share. Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold than daisies in the mould, where children's spell thwart the churchyard gate, his name and life's brief date. Pray for him, gentle souls, who ere you be, and oh, pray too for me. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke, yet could he speak? Alas, I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, and wearied all my thought, to vex myself and him, I now would give my love could he but live, who lately lived for me, and when he found, to his vein, in holy ground he hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath, who wasted his for me, but mine returns, and this lorn bosom burns, with stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, and waking me to weep, tears that had melted his soft heart. For years wept he as bitter tears. Merciful God, such was his latest prayer. These may she never share. Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold than Daisy's and the mold, where children spell, a thwart the churchyard gate, his name and life's brief date. Pray for him gentle souls, who ere you be, and oh, pray too for me. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Maid's Lament by Walter Savage Lander Read for LibriVox.org by Thomas Peter. I loved him not, and yet, now he is gone, I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke, yet, could he speak, alas, I would not check, for reasons not to love him once I sought, and where it all my thought de-vexed myself and him, I now would give my love, could he but live, who lately lived for me, and when he found T'was Vain, in holy ground he hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath, who wasted his for me, but mine returns, and this lawn bosom burns with stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, and waking me to weep tears that had melted his soft heart, for years were but he as bitter tears. Merciful God such was his latest prayer, these may she never share. Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold than daisies in the mold, where children spell, a thwart the churchyard gate, his name and life's brief date. Pray for him, gentle souls, whoever you be, and oh, pray too for me. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Domain's lament by Walter Savage Lander, read for LibriVox.org by Kudrna. I loved him not, and yet now he's gone, I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke, yet could he speak, thus I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, and we read all my thought, to vex myself on him, I now would give my love, could he but live, who lately lived for me, and when he found, it was vain in holy ground, he hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath, who wasted his for me, but mine returns, and his lawn bosom burns, with stifling heat, giving it up in sleep, and waking me to weep, tears that had melted his soft heart, for years wept he has bitter tears. Merciful God, such was his latest prayer, these may she never share. Why there is his breath, his breath's more cold, than they see's in the mold, where children spell, at war the churchyard gate, his name and life's brief date. Pray for him, gentle souls, whoever you be, and oh, pray too for me. End of poem, this recording is in a public domain.