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I think with tears of the dear distant land,—
  The love which now I lack,—
The pleading eyes, the dear detaining hand,
  Which strove to hold me back.

To these, even in my dreams, my memory turns,
  Prizing Love's blessed boon,—
To these in vain my homesick spirit yearns
  As sad seas toward the moon.

All the dear faces which I left behind
  Seem dearer and more fair,
All the old friendships cluster near and kind,
  And keep me from despair.

So am I cheered and comforted, to prove
  What these drear days have shown:
The soul that shrines one dear remembered love
  Is nevermore alone!