 | Poems |  |
63
WAITING.
I know it will not be to-day;
I know it will not be to-morrow;
Oh, half in joy and half in sorrow,
I watch the slow swift hours away;
I bid them haste, then bid them stay,
I long so for the coming day.
I know it will not be to-morrow;
Oh, half in joy and half in sorrow,
I watch the slow swift hours away;
I bid them haste, then bid them stay,
I long so for the coming day.
I long so, I would rather wait;
Each hour I see the unseen comer;
Each hour turns ripe in secret summer
The joys which I anticipate.
O precious feet, come slow, come late!
I long so, it is bliss to wait!
Each hour I see the unseen comer;
Each hour turns ripe in secret summer
The joys which I anticipate.
O precious feet, come slow, come late!
I long so, it is bliss to wait!
Ah, sweet sad life, so far to-day!
Ah, sweet sad life, so near to-morrow!
Can joy be joy when we miss sorrow?
When earth's last sun has rolled away
In tideless time, and we can say
No more, “To-morrow,” or “To-day”?
Ah, sweet sad life, so near to-morrow!
Can joy be joy when we miss sorrow?
When earth's last sun has rolled away
In tideless time, and we can say
No more, “To-morrow,” or “To-day”?
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