I hear the press of eager feet
Upon my parlor floor;
A moment, and my willing arms
Enclasp my boy once more.
I feel his warm breath on my cheek,
But when his name I call
A shadowy finger points to me,
Points me to his Picture on the Wall.
The moon’s full radiance struggles through,
And lights my room once more;
And thus shall heav’n, O heart of mine,
Thy seeming loss restore.
Its light shall gild the present gloom
And sweeter spells enthral,
Than that which binds me to this sweet,
To this sweet true Picture on the Wall.