Lord Edward Bulwer-Lytton (1803–1873)

AS the flight of a river

That flows to the sea

My soul rushes ever

In tumult to thee.

A twofold existence

I am where thou art;

My heart in the distance

Beats close to thy heart.

Look up, I am near thee,

I gaze on thy face;

I see thee, I hear thee,

I feel thine embrace.

As a magnet’s control on

The steel it draws to it,

Is the charm of thy soul on

The thoughts that pursue it.

And absence but brightens

The eyes that I miss,

And custom but heightens

The spell of thy kiss.

It is not from duty,

Though that may be owed,—

It is not from beauty,

Though that be bestow’d;

But all that I care for,

And all that I know,

Is that, without wherefore,

I worship thee so.

Through granite it breaketh

A tree to the ray;

As a dreamer forsaketh

The grief of the day,

My soul in its fever

Escapes unto thee;

O dream to the griever!

O light to the tree!

A twofold existence

I am where thou art;

Hark, hear in the distance

The beat of my heart!