They bear him to his resting-place In slow procession sweeping by; I follow at a stranger's space; His kindred they, his sweetheart I. Unchanged my gown of garish dye, Though sable-sad is their attire; But they stand round with griefless eye, Whilst my regret consumes like fire
[00:03.56] [00:30.31]They bear him to his resting-place [00:33.26]In slow procession sweeping by; [00:36.71]I follow at a stranger's space; [00:39.21]His kindred they, his sweetheart I. [00:46.37]Unchanged my gown of garish dye, [00:50.16]Though sable-sad is their attire; [00:53.81]But they stand round with griefless eye, [00:57.56]Whilst my regret consumes like fire
