 | Art and Fashion |  |
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WILL HE COME?
The snow is falling deeply,
The wintry winds blow drear,
The gloomy day is waning,
And yet he is not here!
The old lamp in the casement
But dimly throws its light;
The way is wild and lonely—
Do you think he'll come to-night?
The wintry winds blow drear,
The gloomy day is waning,
And yet he is not here!
The old lamp in the casement
But dimly throws its light;
The way is wild and lonely—
Do you think he'll come to-night?
A step is on the snow-path,
A hand is at the door;
A voice—I know each whisper—
And love it more and more:
He comes—though dark the hill-side,
And long its weary height:
You know I never doubted,
I said he'd come to-night.
A hand is at the door;
A voice—I know each whisper—
And love it more and more:
He comes—though dark the hill-side,
And long its weary height:
You know I never doubted,
I said he'd come to-night.
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