The Hour Of Most Desire

It is not in the day That I desire you most, Turning to seek your smile For solace or for joy.

Nor is it in the dark, When I toss restlessly, Groping to find your face, Half waking, half in dream.

It is not while I work,-- When, to endear success, Or rob defeat of pain, I weary for your hands.

Nor while from work I rest, And rest is all unrest For lack of your dear voice, Your laughter, and your lips.

But every hour it is That I desire you most,-- Need you in all my life And every breath I breathe.