I HAVE waited for thy coming, love, As the song-bird waits for spring, Ere the echo of his merry lay Makes the forest arches ring; But when the spring is gone, love, And summer's glory fills, How musical the hush, love, Between the shadowy hills. I have waited for thy coming, love, Yet bring to greet thee near, Nor laugh, nor words, nor carol gay, But stillness and a tear; But if I know thy heart, love, And if thou readest mine, This welcome is the best, love, The truest, fondest sign. |