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.

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.

The heart may think it knows better: the senses know that absence blots people out. We have really no absent read more

The heart may think it knows better: the senses know that absence blots people out. We have really no absent friends.

Absence from whom we love is worse than death.

Absence from whom we love is worse than death.

I dote on his very absence, and I wish them a fair departure.

I dote on his very absence, and I wish them a fair departure.

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!

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!

Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream.
And I seek then in vain by the meadow read more

Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream.
And I seek then in vain by the meadow and stream.

I dote on his very absence.

I dote on his very absence.