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THE RETURN
Love looked in my face for a moment's space
One happy spring of yore—
Looked in my face with a wistful grace:
And left me to grieve evermore!
Through all the days the door stood wide,
For hope had breathed a vow
That love should ne'er be kept outside.
The years were long and hope hath died;
The door at last is barred and fast—
Why comes this knocking now?
Yet woe the waiting heart, she said,
And the heart it waiteth for!
And woe the truth and wasted youth
That nothing shall restore!
The faith that's fled, the hope that's dead,
The dreams that come no more.
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