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The want of you is like no other thing;
It flashes on me with the rising sun;
It sighs on me with the misting skies;
Mad with demand and aching with despair;
--Ivan Leonard Wright
It fills my soul with sudden sickening;
It binds my heart in a wreath of rue--
This want of you.
It creeps upon me when the day is done;
It hammers at my heart the long night through
This want of you.
Oh, all the day within me it cries;
Old as your absence yet each moment new--
This want of you.
It leaps in my heart and you are-where?
God has forgotten or he never knew--
This want of you.
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