Classic Poem

Years have seemed months, love,
When passed at thy side;
But months seem long years, love,
When without thee they glide;
Wearily breaketh now
The bright dawning day,
Wearily evening falls,
And thou far away.

What though I roam, love,
'Mid old storied towers,
Wander through palaces,
Gardens and bowers?
Or stray by sweet rivers
Made classic in song?
One charm still is wanting,
One name on my tongue.

Thy smile hath cheered, love,
Hath lighted my path,
When dark clouds have gathered,
Or burst in their wrath,
So long hath it blessed me,
So dear hath it grown
Without it my heart pines
All saddened and lone.

Speed—speed the hours, love,
That bear me once more,
Back to thy fond arms,
A wanderer no more;
Bright though the way be
That tempts me to roam,
I'm most of all blest, love,
With thee and at home!