 | Morning Glories : |  |
HE COMES NOT TO-NIGHT.
My eager waiting heart can bear no more—
Hark! was that not his knock upon the door,
Or, that his footstep on the casement floor?
Ah, no, the clock rings out the hour, 'tis nine,
'Tis past his hour and dreary waiting's thine
Sad heart, he will not come to-night.
Hark! was that not his knock upon the door,
Or, that his footstep on the casement floor?
Ah, no, the clock rings out the hour, 'tis nine,
'Tis past his hour and dreary waiting's thine
Sad heart, he will not come to-night.
With anxious eyes, the gloom I strive to pierce,
The stars are hid and winds are howling fierce;
Only the ticking of the clock I hear,
No welcome footsteps greet my eager ear.
'Tis long since past his hour, vain waiting thine
Sad heart, he will not come to-night.
The stars are hid and winds are howling fierce;
Only the ticking of the clock I hear,
No welcome footsteps greet my eager ear.
'Tis long since past his hour, vain waiting thine
Sad heart, he will not come to-night.
From nature's fount the crystal tear drops flow,
They soothe the throbbing heart's cry low,
O, heart thine is the common, common fate,
Thou yet must learn to hope and wait,
'Tis long since past his hour, vain waiting thine
Sad heart, he will not come to-night.
They soothe the throbbing heart's cry low,
O, heart thine is the common, common fate,
Thou yet must learn to hope and wait,
'Tis long since past his hour, vain waiting thine
Sad heart, he will not come to-night.
| Morning Glories : | |