MY only, and my own one,
How dark and drear, the day
That drags its lingering hours along;
When thou art far away,
The loveliness, that lighted up
My life, no longer nigh,
And hushed the voice, that used to fill
My soul with melody.
High, in the broad blue firmament,
Among those worlds of light,
The faithful witness holds her place,
Constant, serene, and bright
My aching heart in sadness sinks,
For so, her placid eye
Looked down, when heart to heart, we walked,
In hours of joy, gone by.
I sit among my silent books,
And think, with what a pride,
I scanned their hoarded treasures o'er,
When thou wert by my side;
I listen, for thy gentle step,
I watch the opening door;
The page is marked, the pen laid down,
Alas! thou comest no more.
By day or night; at home, abroad,
Where'er I roam or rest,
The thought of thee, my absent love,
Thus fills my faithful breast;
Nor bitter, bitter, though it be,
As pang of parting life;
Has earth a joy, my soul so craves,
While thou'rt away, my wife.