WAITING

When shall I see thee again?

Weary the years and so long;

When shall be buried the wrong,

Phantom-like rising between?

Seeking for surcease of pain,

Pilgrim to Lethe I came;

Drank not, for pride was too keen —

Stung by the sound of a name.

Soft, ardent skies of my youth

Come to me over the sea,

Come in a vision to me,

Come with your shimmer and song;

Ye have known all of the truth,

Witness to both shall ye bear;

Read me the riddle of wrong,

Solve me the cords of the snare.

Love is not won in a breath,

Idle, impassioned and sure;

Why should not love then endure,

Challenging doubt to the last?

True love is true till the death,

Though it bear aloes and myrrh;

Try me and judge me, O Past,

Have I been true unto her?

What should I say if we met,

Knowing not which should forbear?

E'en if I plead would she care?—

Sweet is the refuge of scorn.

Close by my side, O Regret

Long we have watched for the light!

Watchman, what of the morn?

Well do we know of the night.