I WANDERED by the brookside, I wandered by the mill; I could not hear the brook flow, -- The noisy wheel was still; There was no burr of grasshopper, No chirp of any bird, But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. I sat beneath the elm-tree; I watched the long, long shade, And, as it grew still longer, I did not feel afraid; For I listened for a footfall, I listened for a word, -- But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. He came not, -- no, he came not, -- The night came on alone, -- The little stars sat, one by one, Each on his golden throne; The evening wind passed by my cheek, The leaves above were stirred, -- But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. Fast silent tears were flowing, When something stood behind; A hand was on my shoulder, -- I knew its touch was kind: It drew me nearer, -- nearer, -- We did not speak one word, For the beating of our own hearts Was all the sound we heard. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO DEAN-BOURN, A RUDE RIVER IN DEVON, BY WHICH ... HE LIVED by ROBERT HERRICK MADLY SINGING IN THE MOUNTAINS by PO CHU-YI O FOR A SOUL by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE WORK THAT SAVES by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. TWIN STATUES OF AMENOPHIS III AT THEBES by EDWARD CARPENTER PROVERB: 1 by GEOFFREY CHAUCER THE CHIEF WITNESS by GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE TWO SONGS AFTER HEARING THE WAGNER STORY-BOOK: 2 by HILDA CONKLING |