With what a deep devotedness of woe I wept thy absence - o'er and o'er again Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, And memory, like a drop that, night and day, Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!
Thomas MooreWhen Time who steals our years away Shall steal our pleasures too, The mem'ry of the past will stay, And half our joys renew.
Thomas Moore