ABSENCE.

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

After you went away, our lovely room

Seemed like a casket whence the soul had fled.

I stood in awful and appalling gloom,

The world was empty and all joy seemed dead.

I think I felt as one might feel who knew

That Death had left him on the earth alone.

For “all the world” to my fond heart means you;

And there is nothing left when you are gone.

Each way I turned my sad, tear-blinded gaze,

I found fresh torture to augment my grief;

Some new reminder of the perfect days

We passed together, beautiful as brief.

There lay a pleasing book that we had read —

And there your latest gift; and everywhere

Some tender act, some loving word you said,

Seemed to take form and mock at my despair.

All happiness that human heart may know

I find with you; and when you go away,

Those hours become a winding-sheet of woe,

And make a ghastly phantom of To-day.