XXV. 'Now would that thou wert here, my happiness' Poem by Robert Silliman Hillyer

Now would that thou wert here, my happiness,
Here in the flesh, or else completely gone
Out of my life, out of my thoughts withdrawn,
And memory clean of love and old distress.
Night dreams in pain of thee, and on that lawn
Where we would sit at eventide, and press
Heart against heart, only white loneliness
Stretches beneath the winter's cheerless dawn.

Thou woundest me with absence, all the air
Seems echoing thy name, and through the day
I woo forgetfulness, but unaware
My thoughts return to our farewell caress.
Now would that thou wert here, my happiness,
Joy dwells with thee, and thou art far away.