WAITING.
81
"He is coming!" says my heart; I may raise my eyes and greet him;
I may meet him any moment—shall I know him when I see?
And my heart laughs back the answer—I can tell him when I meet him,
For our eyes will kiss and mingle ere he speaks a word to me.
O, I'm longing for his coming—in the dark my arms outreaching;
To hasten you, my love, see, I lay my bosom bare!
Ah, the night-wind ! I shudder, and my hands are raised beseeching—
It wailed so light a death-sigh that passed me in the air!
