I Look In Her Face And Say, "Sing As You Used To Sing About Love'S Blossoming"; But She Hints Not Yea Or Nay. "Sing, Then, That Love'S A Pain, If, Dear, You Think It So, Whether It Be Or No;" But Dumb Her Lips Remain. I Go To A Far-Off Room, A Faint Song Ghosts My Ear; Which Song I Cannot Hear, But It Seems To Come From A Tomb.