Poetry Archives

I said,—for Love was laggard, O, Love was slow to come,—
  “I’ll hear his step and know his step when I am warm in bed;
But I’ll never leave my pillow, though there be some
  As would let him in—and take him in with tears!” I said.
I lay,—for Love was laggard, O, he came not until dawn,—
  I lay and listened for his step and could not get to sleep;
And he found me at my window with my big cloak on,
  All sorry with the tears some folks might weep!