Poems (Freston)/Yearning

For works with similar titles, see Yearning.
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"YEARNING"
The guests have all departed, And the hour is very late, Still I sit here, sadly wondering Why so joyless was the fête.
Wondering, said I? Nay not wondering, For I know the reason why My sad heart, instead of pleasure, Felt the burden of a sigh.
'Twas because thy place was vacant, 'Twas because thou wert not here That the laughter held no music And the evening seemed so drear.
There are many fairer, nobler Holding forth true hands to me, Why must I thus turn me ever From all the world save thee?
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Ah, I know not, but I love thee! And thy face to me, my own,Is the dearest, and there's music For me in thy lightest tone.
There are nobler? yes, perhaps so, But my heart bows down to thee, And although thy faults were legion Thou art still the best to me.
Did the others also miss thee? Did they feel thine absence pain? Did they dream that with thy coming Would return the light again?
I know not! but to my own heart The slow hours passed, one by one,Like these flowers I fling by because Their sweetness all is flown.
Why is it that the gift most prized Fate always doth deny? Why is it that the sweetest thought Is followed by a sigh.
O Sovereign power of loving! The hearts most worthy thee,Are those that feel most keenly Thy pitiless decree.
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