So sweetly she bade me adieu, I thought that she bade me return.
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.
Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
It's the way you ride the trail that counts.
Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.
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