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| COME to me, dearest, I ’m lonely without thee, | |
| Daytime and night-time, I ’m thinking about thee; | |
| Night-time and daytime, in dreams I behold thee; | |
| Unwelcome the waking which ceases to fold thee. | |
| Come to me, darling, my sorrows to lighten, | 5 |
| Come in thy beauty to bless and to brighten; | |
| Come in thy womanhood, meekly and lowly, | |
| Come in thy lovingness, queenly and holy. | |
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| Swallows will flit round the desolate ruin, | |
| Telling of spring and its joyous renewing; | 10 |
| And thoughts of thy love, and its manifold treasure, | |
| Are circling my heart with a promise of pleasure. | |
| O Spring of my spirit, O May of my bosom, | |
| Shine out on my soul, till it bourgeon and blossom; | |
| The waste of my life has a rose-root within it, | 15 |
| And thy fondness alone to the sunshine can win it. | |
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| Figure that moves like a song through the even; | |
| Features lit up by a reflex of heaven; | |
| Eyes like the skies of poor Erin, our mother, | |
| Where shadow and sunshine are chasing each other; | 20 |
| Smiles coming seldom, but childlike and simple, | |
| Planting in each rosy cheek a sweet dimple;— | |
| O, thanks to the Saviour, that even thy seeming | |
| Is left to the exile to brighten his dreaming. | |
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| You have been glad when you knew I was gladdened; | 25 |
| Dear, are you sad now to hear I am saddened? | |
| Our hearts ever answer in tune and in time, love, | |
| As octave to octave, and rhyme unto rhyme, love: | |
| I cannot weep but your tears will be flowing, | |
| You cannot smile but my cheek will be glowing; | 30 |
| I would not die without you at my side, love, | |
| You will not linger when I shall have died, love. | |
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| Come to me, dear, ere I die of my sorrow, | |
| Rise on my gloom like the sun of to-morrow; | |
| Strong, swift, and fond as the words which I speak, love, | 35 |
| With a song on your lip and a smile on your cheek, love. | |
| Come, for my heart in your absence is weary,— | |
| Haste, for my spirit is sickened and dreary,— | |
| Come to the arms which alone should caress thee, | |
| Come to the heart that is throbbing to press thee! | 40 |
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