miscellaneous poems.
75
He comes no more to see me,—
(He called me his wild flower,)
I hear that winning sound no more,—
But, oh! I feel its power.
(He called me his wild flower,)
I hear that winning sound no more,—
But, oh! I feel its power.
I'm weary with my watching—
Because I watch in vain;—
But woman's heart must suffer much
In solitude and pain.
Because I watch in vain;—
But woman's heart must suffer much
In solitude and pain.
What is it keeps him from me?
Oh! if my eyes are dim,
He might have known 'twas weariness,
In watching long for him.
Oh! if my eyes are dim,
He might have known 'twas weariness,
In watching long for him.
And if my cheek has faded,
Kind words could make it bloom;
His voice could call my spirit back,
Though sinking to the tomb.
Kind words could make it bloom;
His voice could call my spirit back,
Though sinking to the tomb.
But now I'll weep no more—
Why should I weep in vain?
Oh! robe me in a garb of pride,
Deck me with jewel'd chain!
Why should I weep in vain?
Oh! robe me in a garb of pride,
Deck me with jewel'd chain!
