I SIT and wait for you, Dear, my Dear, Now the sun is low; From the far-off town the path runs clear, And the way you know -- The old, old way that brought you here, In the Long-Ago. The white moon climbs, and looks at me -- Her smile is cold; Something she sees that I do not see -- The moon is old. I catch a sigh from the winds that flee Across the wold -- What is the secret they hide from me? -- They have not told. To Lethe-country your steps were set -- Did you taste that spring That makes the heart of a man forget The dearest thing? Nay! I sit and wait for you, Dear, my Dear, For the sun is low -- From your far-off place the path runs clear, And you still must know The old, old way that brought you here In the Long-Ago. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLADE OF DEAD LADIES by FRANCOIS VILLON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 40 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN EPISTLE TO MISS TERESA BLOUNT, ON HER LEAVING THE TOWN by ALEXANDER POPE LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH METAMORPHOSES: 11. INVOCATION OF ISIS by LUCIUS APULEIUS THE PLAYERS by FRANCIS LAWRENCE BICKLEY A WOMAN'S SONNETS: 8 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |