I SEEK your lips with my fond eyes,
My sight is weary, dear;
My heart with longing all day cries,
For you when you are near.
When you are near and others take
Your eyes and lips from me,
And in my soul deep surges make,
As tempests in the sea.
I seek your lips and press them not,
My own are parched with pain;
My aching eyes are dim and hot—
My soul hopes on in vain.
The day is gone, and you are lost,
The night for me is lone—
And through its hours I count the cost
Of days without my own.