Absence

Absence

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder"

One who knew has wisely said,

Since it gives us time to ponder

Over love, though living, dead!

As we will, the sweet face haunts us

And the voice we love is heard,

Though the accent pains and taunts us

With a deathless hope deferred.

Could we die when love no longer

Lives but in our constant breast,

Would that be, forsooth, to wrong her

Who had cursed what she had blessed?

Woman is a perverse creature,

Prone to crush the tender flower,

Given her by gracious Nature

As the plaything of an hour.

T. Thomas Fortune

4:4, p. 2

1890.10.18