 | [Anticipation, in] The dew-drop |  |
151
ANTICIPATION.
Burning waves of expectation
In her bosom rose and fell,
And alone the flowers were heaving
To and fro upon their swell;
Half her dark hair was upgathered,
Half in sad neglect it flowed;
While her eager eyes were resting
On the winding valley road.
In her bosom rose and fell,
And alone the flowers were heaving
To and fro upon their swell;
Half her dark hair was upgathered,
Half in sad neglect it flowed;
While her eager eyes were resting
On the winding valley road.
Oft her fancy, strangely cheated,
Made her pulse with joy beat quick;
Then again the vision vanished,
And her soul grew faint and sick.
Thus she waited, and when tear-drops
Almost to her eyes would start,
Crushed them with some sweet assurance,
Whispered softly to the heart.
Made her pulse with joy beat quick;
Then again the vision vanished,
And her soul grew faint and sick.
Thus she waited, and when tear-drops
Almost to her eyes would start,
Crushed them with some sweet assurance,
Whispered softly to the heart.
152
Still adown that valley's pathway
Came no light step through the trees,
And no kisses touched her forehead
But the kisses of the breeze:
Yet she murmured, never doubting,
“He is brave, and true, and good.
Some dark fate has kept him from me:
He would meet me if he could!”
Came no light step through the trees,
And no kisses touched her forehead
But the kisses of the breeze:
Yet she murmured, never doubting,
“He is brave, and true, and good.
Some dark fate has kept him from me:
He would meet me if he could!”
| [Anticipation, in] The dew-drop | |