  I lingered still when you were gone, When tryst and trust were o'er, While memory like a wounded swan In sorrow sung love's lore. I lingered till the whippoorwill Had cried delicious pain Over the wild-wood—in its thrill I heard your voice again. I lingered and the mellow breeze Blew to me sweetly dewed— Its touch awoke the sorceries Your last caresses brewed. But when the night with silent start Had sown her starry seed, The harvest which sprang in my heart Was loneliness and need. |
|
