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.