Page:Poems Rossetti.djvu/258

ADVENT.

THIS Advent moon shines cold and clear,
 These Advent nights are long;
Our lamps have burned year after year
 And still their flame is strong.
"Watchman, what of the night?" we cry
 Heart-sick with hope deferred:
"No speaking signs are in the sky,"
 Is still the watchman's word.

The Porter watches at the gate,
 The servants watch within;
The watch is long betimes and late,
 The prize is slow to win.
"Watchman, what of the night?" but still
 His answer sounds the same:
"No daybreak tops the utmost hill,
 Nor pale our lamps of flame."

One to another hear them speak
 The patient virgins wise:
"Surely He is not far to seek"—
 All night we watch and rise."
"The days are evil looking back,
 The coming days are dim;
Yet count we not His promise slack,
 But watch and wait for Him."