Poems (Van Vorst)/Three Days More
THREE DAYS MORE. . . .
Not love's command Could dry one league of sea; Or even God's hand Fold up one mile of land, To bring you sooner unto me!
There are but three more days to climb—To-day, to-morrow, and its mate,Till that day! . . . Did love know to wait Would it be love? Not in my time Or in my blood! My thought, elate, Swells like a rising sea to flood Covering barren days between And brings you (as love should) Till you stand there—my lord, my light, my good! . . .Ere the frail screen Of fancy falls to my embrace Sudden, the spell snaps short to Fate! Till that day—when I see your face—There are still three dark days to climb, To-day, to-morrow, and its mate.