The hospital has the Cedar Room

Where visitors may go to rest

From watching the very sick, oppressed

By memories of them in their bloom

Who now decline in short-breathed sleep;

The Cedar Room’s to rest- and weep.

But I don’t go there, afraid to tear

My gaze from that dear, much loved face

Of her whom I’ll no more embrace- 

Oh God, that thought is hell to bear

For heaven is when she’s everywhere

And hell is when is she is not there

But now she’s gone and all is gloom

And all the world’s a Cedar Room.

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