Sitting lonely, ever lonely,1
Waiting, waiting for one only,2
Thus I count the weary moments passing by ;3
And the heavy evening gloom4
Gathers slowly in the room,5
And the chill November darkness dims the sky.6
Now the countless busy feet7
Cross each other in the street,8
And I watch the faces flitting past my door ;9
But the step that lingered nightly,10
And the hand that rapp’d so lightly,11
And the face that beam’d so brightly,12
Come no more.13
By the firelight’s fitful gleaming14
I am dreaming, ever dreaming,15
And the rain is slowly falling all around ;16
And voices that are nearest,17
Of friends the best and dearest,18
Appear to have a strange and distant sound.19
Now the weary wind is sighing,20
And the murky day is dying,21
And the wither’d leaves lie scatter’d round my door ;22
But that voice whose gentle greeting23
Set this heart so wildly beating24
At each fond and frequent meeting,25
Comes no more.26