Oh, my Clarinda, I’m thinking of you.
Each day is begun with the wonder of you.
The calm sense of your words keeps on sending from you;
You must never sleep, for your power stays true,
Or your dreams must be beaming the light of you, too.
Oh, what was I doing before I met you?
Was I really alive, or pretending to be?
Was I really a poet? Did I think? Did I see?
Or was I a ghost a-wand’ring through air,
With no love to love and speak to me fair?
Oh my Clarinda, I’m dreaming of you;
My night is your day and your day is my song,
And the message you send keeps me dreaming so strong
That I wake in my day when you’re going to bed,
With the song of your being the sun in my head!