At the Bars of Memory and Other Poems/The Hunger
THE HUNGER
Sometimes when the curtains are lowered, an' the world is shut away,
An' the embers glow in the fire-grate like the burnin' steps o' day,
From the bounds o' the land o' spirits I feel you drawin' near
An' above the tickin' o' my clock I hear you whisper, "Dear!"
An' sometimes when I linger in the old, old garden spot
I seem to trace your tender face in a fair forget-me-not;
An' the gnawin' hunger o ' my soul is lost for a little while
In the sacred recollection o' your sweet an' deathless smile.
An' sometimes in the star-lit night when the earth is hush'd an' still,
An' the silver moon is pinion'd to a star above the hill,
My dream ships go a-sailin' o'er the Seas o' Yesterday
An' your fairy voice comes singin' like the birds across the way.
An' sometimes I seem to catch a glint o ' sunny, golden hair
As the sunlight throws a shadow 'cross the room an' over there
Where you used to sit an' watch me bendin' o'er a yieldin' page;
But my pen is still'd an' rustin' … an' the time seems such an age!
The dreams I built in olden days are lost in the dark o' grief,
An' like a wind-swept tree that craves for a single, clingin' leaf,
My soul is hungry for the touch of a soft, caressin' hand;
For the tender eyes of a lost one … who knew … an' could understand!