 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
WEARY WAITING.
Unto myself I say, “I am alone!
Upon the bounds of further life I stand.”
I have passed very swiftly through Love's land;
But I have seen it, even I have known
The bliss of calling one beloved my own:
And now, before my time, upon the strand
Of the pale sea, with Sorrow hand in hand,
I wait until the weary time be done.
Upon the bounds of further life I stand.”
I have passed very swiftly through Love's land;
But I have seen it, even I have known
The bliss of calling one beloved my own:
And now, before my time, upon the strand
Of the pale sea, with Sorrow hand in hand,
I wait until the weary time be done.
No boat as yet is at the water's side
To bear me over; all its solitude
My heart might bear with, but a multitude
Of ghastly memories track me to the tide;
They sing, they weep, they sob with passionate breath,
“Love lies behind thee, and beyond is death!”
To bear me over; all its solitude
My heart might bear with, but a multitude
Of ghastly memories track me to the tide;
They sing, they weep, they sob with passionate breath,
“Love lies behind thee, and beyond is death!”
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |