John Hay

8 October 1838 – 1 July 1905 / Salem, Indiana

To One Absent

Only a week ago, heaven bent so near
It bartered greetings with the jocund earth,
The sweet June day was lived with love and mirth,
A world of verdure laughed in summer cheer.
And when night came its charm was doubly dear;
Under that opulent moon joy knew no dearth;
All beautiful and gracious things had birth
In your eyes' cherishing light; for you were here.
Now all that glow of life is vanished; lorn
The world lies under the cold gleam of morn.
Withered and shrinking in the spectral blue
Hangs the sad moon, a pale and shuddering ghost
Of all that glory in your absence lost
Fading and waning, love, for lack of you.
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