The
days grew cold, and life grew drear;
It
were not so when you were near.
My
feet grow numb, ‘tis hard to stand;
It
were not so I held your hand.
Night
settles down, I cannot see;
It
were not so when you loved me.
Return,
O love, this cloud destroy;
And
bring me life and light and joy!
Nov.
23, 1905
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