I miss you in the morning, dear,
When all the world is new;
I know the day can bring no joy
because it brings not you.
I miss the well-loved voice of you,
your tender smile for me,
the charm of you, the joy of your
I miss you at the noontide, dear;
the crowded street
seems but a desert now, I walk
in solitude complete.
I miss your hand beside my own
the light touch of your hand,
the quick gleam in the eyes of you
so sure to understand.
I miss you in the evening, dear,
when daylight fades away;
I miss the sheltering arms of you
to rest me from the day,
I try to think I see you yet
There where the firelight gleams.
Weary at last, I sleep, and still
I miss you in my dreams.