I sleep with thee and wake with thee,
And yet thou art not there;
I fill my mind with thoughts of thee-
And press the common air.

Thy eyes are gazing upon mine
When thou art out of sight,
My lips are always touching thine
At morning, noon, and night.

I think and speak of other things
To keep my mind at rest,
But still to thee my memory clings
Like love in woman's breast.

I hide it from the world's wide eye
And think and speak contrary;
But soft the wind comes from the sky
And whispers tales of Mary.