I will come back," Love cried, "I will come back."
And there where he had passed lay one bright track
Dreamlike and golden, as the moonlit sea,
Between the pine wood's shadow tall and black.
"I will come back," Love cried — ah me!
Love will come back.
He will come back. Yet, Love, I wait, I wait;
Though it is evening now, and cold and late,
And I am weary watching here so long,
A pale, sad watcher at a silent gate,
For Love who is so fair and swift and strong,
I wait, I wait.
He will come back — come back, though he delays;
He will come back — for in old years and days
He was my playmate — he will not forget,
Though he may linger long amid new ways,
He wiil bring back, with barren sweet regret,
Old years and days.
Hush! on the lonely hills Love comes again;
But his young feet are marked with many a stain,
The golden haze has passed from his fair brow,
And round him clings the blood-red robe of pain;
And it is night: O Love — Love — enter now.
Remain, remain!
