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Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; every little absence is an age.
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; every little absence is an age.
Absence from whom we love is worse than death.
Absence from whom we love is worse than death.
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What read more
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
Sometimes I need what only you can provide -- your absence.
Sometimes I need what only you can provide -- your absence.
For I verily, absent in body, but present in spirit, have judged
already, as though I were present, concerning read more
For I verily, absent in body, but present in spirit, have judged
already, as though I were present, concerning him that hath so
done this deed, . . .
With what a deep devotedness of woe
I wept thy absence--o'er and o'er again
Thinking of thee, read more
With what a deep devotedness of woe
I wept thy absence--o'er and o'er again
Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain,
And memory, like a drop that, night and day,
Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!
'Tis said that absence conquers love;
But oh! believe it not
I've tried, alas! its power to read more
'Tis said that absence conquers love;
But oh! believe it not
I've tried, alas! its power to prove,
But thou art not forgot.
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled, fondly turns to thee;
Still to my read more
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled, fondly turns to thee;
Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
What shall I do with all the days and hours
That must be counted ere I see thy face?
read more
What shall I do with all the days and hours
That must be counted ere I see thy face?
How shall I charm the interval that lowers
Between this time and that sweet time of grace?