How is it that, being gone, you fill my days, And all the long nights are made glad by thee? No loneliness is this, nor misery, But great content that these should be the ways Whereby the Fancy, dreaming as she strays, Makes bright and present what she would would be. And who shall say if the reality Is not with dreams so pregnant. For delays And hindrances may bar the wished-for end; A thousand misconceptions may prevent Our souls from coming near enough to blend; Let me but think we have the same intent, That each one needs to call the other, "friend!" It may be vain illusion. I'm content. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I COULD TAKE by HAYDEN CARRUTH BRIGHTNESS AS A POIGNANT LIGHT by DAVID IGNATOW RECOMPENSE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 2 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH LITTLE BROTHER'S STORY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD ANCHORED TO THE INFINITE by EDWIN MARKHAM |