A MAIDEN'S PLEDGE

I do not wish to win your vow

To take me soon or late as bride,

And lift me from the nook where now

I tarry your farings to my side.

I am blissful ever to abide

In this green labyrinth — let all be,

If but, whatever may betide,

You do not leave off loving me!

Your comet-comings I will wait

With patience time shall not wear through;

The yellowing years will not abate

My largened love and truth to you,

Nor drive me to complaint undue

Of absence, much as I may pine,

If never another‘ twixt us two

Shall come, and you stand wholly mine.