ONCE BEFORE.
Sole she sat beside her window,
Hearing only rain-drops pour,
Looking only at the shore,
When, outside the little casement,
Weeping in a feigned abasement,
Love stood knocking—
Knocking at her bolted door.
Hearing only rain-drops pour,
Looking only at the shore,
When, outside the little casement,
Weeping in a feigned abasement,
Love stood knocking—
Knocking at her bolted door.
Slow she swung the little casement
Where the Autumn roses glowed,
Sweet and sad her deep eyes showed;
And her voice, in gentlest measure,
Said aloud—"Nor Love, nor Pleasure
Can come in here any more—
Never, any more!"
Where the Autumn roses glowed,
Sweet and sad her deep eyes showed;
And her voice, in gentlest measure,
Said aloud—"Nor Love, nor Pleasure
Can come in here any more—
Never, any more!"
"But I am not Love nor Pleasure—
I am but an orphan baby;
Lost, my mother is, or maybe
Dead she lies, while I am weeping,"
I am but an orphan baby;
Lost, my mother is, or maybe
Dead she lies, while I am weeping,"
