I. The Leaves Are Shivering On The Thorn, Drearily; And Sighing Wakes The Lean-Eyed Morn, Wearily. I Press My Thin Face To The Pane, Drearily; But Never Will He Come Again. (Wearily.) The Rain Hath Sicklied Day With Haze, Drearily; My Tears Run Downward As I Gaze, Wearily. The Mist And Morn Spake Unto Me, Drearily: "What Is This Thing God Gives To Thee?" (Wearily.) I Said Unto The Morn And Mist, Drearily: "The Babe Unborn Whom Sin Hath Kissed." (Wearily.) The Morn And Mist Spake Unto Me, Drearily: "What Is This Thing Which Thou Dost See?" (Wearily.) I Said Unto The Mist And Morn, Drearily: "The Shame Of Man And Woman'S Scorn." (Wearily.) "He Loved Thee Not," They Made Reply. Drearily. I Said, "Would God Had Let Me Die!" (Wearily.) Ii. My Dreams Are As A Closed Up Book, (Drearily.) Upon Whose Clasp Of Love I Look, Wearily. All Night The Rain Raved Overhead, Drearily; All Night I Wept Awake In Bed, Wearily. I Heard The Wind Sweep Wild And Wide, Drearily; I Turned Upon My Face And Sighed, Wearily. The Wind And Rain Spake Unto Me, Drearily: "What Is This Thing God Takes From Thee?" (Wearily.) I Said Unto The Rain And Wind, Drearily: "The Love, For Which My Soul Hath Sinned." (Wearily.) The Rain And Wind Spake Unto Me, Drearily: "What Are These Things Thou Still Dost See?" (Wearily.) I Said Unto The Wind And Rain, Drearily: "Regret, And Hope Despair Hath Slain." (Wearily.) "Thou Lov'St Him Still," They Made Reply, Drearily. I Said, "That God Would Let Me Die!" (Wearily.)