Too much, oh! there too much! We know not well
Wherefore it should be thus, yet roused by thee,
What fond, strange yearnings, from the soul’s deep cell,
Gush for the faces we no more may see!
How are we haunted, in the wind’s low tone,
By voices that are gone!
Looks of familiar love, that never more,
Never on earth, our aching eyes shall meet,
Past words of welcome to our household door,
And vanish’d smiles, and sounds of parted feet—