Poetry Archives

Oh you are coming, coming, coming,
 How will hungry Time put by the hours till then? —
But why does it anger my heart to long so
 For one man out of the world of men?

Oh I would live in myself only
 And build my life lightly and still as a dream —
Are not my thoughts clearer than your thoughts
 And colored like stones in a running stream?

Now the slow moon brightens in heaven,
 The stars are ready, the night is here —
Oh why must I lose myself to love you,
 My dear?