It is not in the day
That I desire you most,
Turning to seek your smile
For solace or for joy.
Nor is it in the dark,
When I toss restlessly,
Groping to find your face,
Half waking, half in dream.
It is not while I work,—
When, to endear success,
Or rob defeat of pain,
I weary for your hands.
Nor while from work I rest,
And rest is all unrest
For lack of your dear voice,
Your laughter, and your lips.
But every hour it is
That I desire you most,—
Need you in all my life
And every breath I breathe.