I think I felt as one might feel who knew
That Death had left him on the earth alone.
For "all the world" to my fond heart means you;
And there is nothing left when you are gone.
Each way I turned my sad, tear-blinded gaze,
I found fresh torture to augment my grief;
Some new reminder of the perfect days
We passed together, beautiful as brief.
There lay a pleasing book that we had read---
And there your latest gift; and everywhere
Some tender act, some loving word you said,
Seemed to take form and mock at my despair.
All happiness that human heart may know
I find with you; and when you go away,
Those hours become a winding-sheet of woe,
And make a ghastly phantom of To-day.
Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917.
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