Absence (Matthew Arnold)
In this fair strangers eyes of grey
Thine eyes, my love, I see
I shudder: for the passing day
Had borne me far from thee
This is the curse of life: that not
A nobler calmer train
Of wiser thoughts and feelings blot
Our passions from our brain
But each day brings its petty dust
Our soon-chok'd souls to fill
And we forget because we must
And not because we will
I struggle towards the light; and ye
Once-long'd-for storms of love!
If with the light ye cannot be
I bear that ye remove
I struggle towards the light; but oh
While yet the night is chill
Upon Times barren, stormy flow
Stay with me, Marguerite, still!