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          Christopher Morley (1890-1957)


    WHEN we were parted, sweet, and darkness came,
    I used to strike a match, and hold the flame
    Before your picture and would breathless mark
    The answering glimmer of the tiny spark
    That brought to life the magic of your eyes,
    Their wistful tenderness, their glad surprise.

    Holding that mimic torch before your shrine
    I used to light your eyes and make them mine;
    Watch them like stars set in a lonely sky,
    Whisper my heart out, yearning for reply;
    Summon your lips from far across the sea
    Bidding them live a twilight hour with me.

    Then, when the match was shrivelled into gloom,
    Lo—you were with me in the darkened room.


The above poem can be found in:
  • Morley, Christopher. Chimneysmoke. New York: George H. Doran Company, 1921.