Poems (Terry, 1861)/Once before
ONCE BEFORE.
Sole she sat beside her window, Hearing only rain-drops pour, Looking only at the shore,When, outside the little casement,Weeping in a feigned abasement, Love stood knocking—Knocking at her bolted door.
Slow she swung the little casement Where the Autumn roses glowed, Sweet and sad her deep eyes showed;And her voice, in gentlest measure,Said aloud—"Nor Love, nor Pleasure Can come in here any more—Never, any more!"
"But I am not Love nor Pleasure— I am but an orphan baby; Lost, my mother is, or maybeDead she lies, while I am weeping," Sobbed the child, his soft lie creeping Softly through the bolted door—Through the maiden's door.
Low she said, in accents lonely: "Once I let him in before, Once I opened wide my door.Ever since my life is dreary,All my prayers are vague and weary; Once I let him in before,Now I'll double-lock the door!"
In the rain he stands imploring; Tears and kisses storm the door, Where she let him in before.Will she never know repenting?Will she ever, late relenting, Let him in, as once before?Will she double-lock the door?