Whenever I think of you, you are alone,
Shut by yourself between
Great walls of stone.
There is a stool, I think, and a table there,
And a mat underneath your feet;
And the rest is bare.
I cannot stop remembering this, my own,
Seventeen hours of the day
You are alone.

Lesbia Harford

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whenever-i-think-of-you-you-are-alone/