ading cry.

One more dream for the patient singer,
Weary with songs he loved so well;
Sleeping now--will the vision bring her?
Hark, 'tis the sound of the passing bell!

WAITING

When shall I see thee again?
Weary the years and so long;
When shall be buried the wrong,
Phantom-like rising between?
Seeking for surcease of pain,
Pilgrim to Lethe I came;
Drank not, for pride was too keen--
Stung by the sound of a name.

Soft, ardent skies of my youth
Come to me over the sea,
Come in a vision to me,
Come with your shimmer and song;
Ye have known all of the truth,
Witness to both shall ye bear;
Read me the riddle of wrong,
Solve me the cords of the snare.

Love is not won in a breath,
Idle, impassioned and sure;
Why should not love then endure,
Challenging doubt to the last?
True love is true till the death,
Though it bear aloes and myrrh;
Try me and judge me, O Past,
Have I been true unto her?

What should I say if we met,
Knowing not which should forbear?
E'en if I plead would she care?--
Sweet is the refuge of scorn.
Close by my side, O Regret
Long we have watched for the light!
Watchman, what of the morn?
Well do we know of the night.

IN MAYTIME

The apple blossoms glisten
Within the crowned trees;
The meadow grasses listen
The din of busy bees;
The wayward, woodland singer
Carols along the leas,
Not loth to be the bringer
Of summer fantasies.

But you and I who never
Meet now but for regret,
Forever and forever,
Though flower-bonds were set