To a distant friend

Came across a poem that by coincidence depicted exactly what I was feeling at that moment...


Why are thou silent! Is thy love a plant
Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air
Of abscence withers what was once so fair?
is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant?

Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant,
Bound to thy service with unceasing care
The mind's least generous wish a medicant
For nought but what thy happiness could spare.

Speak! though this soft warm heart, once free to hold
A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine,
Be left more desolate, more dreary cold
Than a forsaken bird's nest fill'd with snow
'Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine
Speak, that my toturing doubts their end may know.

Wordsworth