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I really do resent going away
Though in my mind I know it's temporary
Still I'd prefer by leaps and bounds to stay
And long to make delays that let me tarry
Within her arms - for she, not coming too,
Becomes the sorrow that my leaving brings.
There's very little I would rather do
Than be with her, conjoining in all things,
But no, I must away and back to home
(Or that which is my home with her apart)
And merely long within my soul to roam
And be with her again back at the start.
I cannot stay, although I much prefer
To linger while I can back there with her.