I love you through the daytimes,

in the dark,

Through all the long divisions of the night,

those hours

I, spendthrift, waste away alone,

and lie, and turn, awake till whitened dawn.

And with the shape of you I people night,

and thoughts of hot desire grow live within me.

What magic was it in that voice of yours

to bring such singing vigor to my flesh,

To limbs which now lie listless on my bed without you?

Thus I beseech the darkness:

Where gone, O loving man?

Why gone from her whose love

can pace you, step by step, to your desire?

No loving voice replies.

And I (too well) perceive

how much I am alone.