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LEFT ALONE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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LEFT ALONE.

She's left me here alone again:
'T will be a weary lot,
Through all this cheerless winter time
To live where she is not;
To sit, where once we used to sit,
With smileless lip and dumb;
To count the moments since she went,
And know not when she'll come!
We talked through all the summer time,
We 'd talked through all the spring,
Of how upon the winter hearth
We 'd make a pleasant ring;
Of how with loving words and looks
The time should all be sped;—
The firelight's glow is mournful now,
The books are all unread.
We never were together long,
We have not been so blest;
I might have known this hope of ours
Would perish like the rest:
And half I trembled all the while,
And feared it would be so;—
The hand of fate would press me back
From where her feet must go.
If there shall ever be a time,
When, as in days that were,
My soul can whisper all its dreams
And all its thoughts to her,—
When I can share her heart's sweet hopes,
Or soothe its bitter pain,—
I would the hours were past till then,
And that were come again!