 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary with introduction and notes |  |
THE WATCHER.
'T is the third summer that has gone,
Since first upon that sloping hill,
He listened for the feet of one
Whose coming he is waiting still.
Since first upon that sloping hill,
He listened for the feet of one
Whose coming he is waiting still.
All through the evenings warm and bland,
When the red sunset lights the skies,
Then first we see the watcher stand,
With hope reflected in his eyes:
When the red sunset lights the skies,
Then first we see the watcher stand,
With hope reflected in his eyes:
Still waiting through the tranquil hours,
Till eve with fingers, fair and slight,
Has folded up to sleep the flowers,
And left them with the peaceful night.
Till eve with fingers, fair and slight,
Has folded up to sleep the flowers,
And left them with the peaceful night.
But when the stars like fire-sparks glow
In the far pavement of the sky,
Then hope, that lingered on till now,
Fades slowly from his cheek and eye.
In the far pavement of the sky,
Then hope, that lingered on till now,
Fades slowly from his cheek and eye.
And when the still night, wearing on,
Has almost broken into day,
As if he knew she would not come,
He turns with mournful step away.
Has almost broken into day,
As if he knew she would not come,
He turns with mournful step away.
Oh, heavily, and dull, and slow,
Such hours of anxious vigil wane:
God keep that watcher in his woe,
Who looks for coming feet in vain.
Such hours of anxious vigil wane:
God keep that watcher in his woe,
Who looks for coming feet in vain.
398
'T was on the morning of a day
Sweet as the night-time ever nursed,
Her white arms filled with flowers of May,
He saw the village maiden first.
Sweet as the night-time ever nursed,
Her white arms filled with flowers of May,
He saw the village maiden first.
Like the last hues of dying day,
Which sunset from his path has rolled,
The roses of the summer lay
Softly among her locks of gold.
Which sunset from his path has rolled,
The roses of the summer lay
Softly among her locks of gold.
Singing a soft and plaintive lay,
She won him with her gentle tone,
And then he stole her heart away
With voice as witching as her own.
She won him with her gentle tone,
And then he stole her heart away
With voice as witching as her own.
And once, when the sweet stars as now
Look calmly down upon that hill,
Their young hearts breathed the tender vow
Which one has kept so faithful still.
Look calmly down upon that hill,
Their young hearts breathed the tender vow
Which one has kept so faithful still.
And meeting nightly, 't was not strange,
But yet he dreamed not love could wane,
Or thought that human hearts might change,
Until he waited there in vain.
But yet he dreamed not love could wane,
Or thought that human hearts might change,
Until he waited there in vain.
And still, to meet her on that height,
He lingers as in summers gone,
Till evening deepening into night,
He wakes to find himself alone.
He lingers as in summers gone,
Till evening deepening into night,
He wakes to find himself alone.
For none till now have ever told
That watcher of expectant hours,
How long ago her locks of gold
Were braided with the bridal flowers.
That watcher of expectant hours,
How long ago her locks of gold
Were braided with the bridal flowers.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary with introduction and notes | |