I hear not his steps, but the lone place I see,
Where oft his kind words have been spoken to me.
I miss him while gather the shadows of night;
I miss him when dawns the fair morning light.
I miss him—but where are the words to express
The depth of my grief in such loneliness.
I smile when I’m sad, and seem joyful in grief;
When alone bitter tears are my only relief;
Bruised now is the heart by the blow that has come,
Dark now the dear spot, once so bright as my home.