She came from her palace grand She came to my cottage door Her words were few but her looks Will linger for evermore The look in her sad dark eyes More tender than words could be. Oh but I was nothing to her And she was the world to me. And now in her garden she stands All dressed in fine satin and lace My lady so cold and so strange Who finds in her heart no place. And I knew she would be my bride With a kiss for a lifetime fee. Oh but I was nothing to her And she was the world to me. Now in her palace grand On a flower covered bed she lies Her beautiful lids are closed Over her sad dark eyes. And among the mourners who mourn Why should I a mourner be. When I was nothing to her And she was the world to me. And how will it be with our souls When we meet in that spirit land What the human heart never knows Will a spirit understand Or in some celestial form Will our sorrows repeated be. Will I still be nothing to her Though she is the world to me.