With sun's labor, fences like warmed brushwood
Ring amongst the silence.
A kiss places itself on my forehead,
Alone – without the help of lips...
Coming from a crumbled barn, rising to the sky,
Are swallows' cries and laughter -
Spring's light breath, swells the room's
Faded curtains with a rustle.
O God, whom sent fragrant lilac, to grow
At my window on an dark hour,
Forgive my untimely and unknowing death
At my own tears' will!...
- "In Vain" Bolesław Leśmian
He felt as if he would never breathe again. The dark sky hovered far above, seemingly beautiful, but almost empty, as his eyes refused to see the slight glimmer of stars; they shone brightly, and yet he was blind to their magnificence.
He lay on the grass, his white shirt damp from the midnight dew. Oblivious to all that surrounded him, he stared into the dark blue depth, thinking of another place, far away, feeling his heart tremble at the memory.
He could not forget her. Not today, not in a thousand years... not ever.
Simple, yet unique. Slight in body, and yet possessing a great spirit. Strong, righteous, passionate...
In the darkest hours of the night he would call her his. His to love and cherish, his to protect and keep safe at all times... his Margaret.
But with every rising of the sun, memories faded, becoming dreams, dissipating. The longing he carried in his heart was only then solidified, like steel being tempered a hundredfold.
Now, looking beyond what seemed a cloak of grim darkness, he whispered again, softly, and the wind carried his words away, scattering them between the branches of the trees above him:
"I will never forget you... my Margaret".
Disclaimer: I don't own 'North and South'. It's too well-written to be mine anyway :)