LXXVIII

by Luis G. Dato

And now your windows close, ‘tis time to sleep.
Upon your pillow now to lay your head,
Perhaps some prayer ere you go to bed,
And then to dreams and slumber sound and deep.
But with my thoughts sad company I keep,
Until the long, drear hours of night are sped,
With longings feel as though my soul were dead,
With no recourse but in my woe to weep.

For you have closed the day without goodbye,
Or e’en the semblance of a faint good-night,
It were as though the road you passed me by,
But hurried on who were my hope, my light,
Nor even turned on me a furtive eye,
Till in the distance you were lost to sight.

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