There's not a fibre in my trembling frame br That does not vibrate when thy step draws near, br There's not a pulse that throbs not when I hear br Thy voice, thy breathing, nay thy very name. br When thou art with me every sense seems dim, br And all I am, or know, or feel is thee; br My soul grows faint, my veins run liquid flame, br And my bewildered spirit seems to swim br In eddying whirls of passion, dizzily. br br When thou art gone, there creeps into my heart br A cold and bitter consciousness of pain: br The light, the warmth of life with thee depart, br And I sit dreaming over and over again br Thy greeting clasp, thy parting look and tone; br And suddenly I wake--and am alone.