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A WOMAN'S WAITING.
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A WOMAN'S WAITING.
UNDER the apple-tree blossoms, in May,
Robert and I watched the sun go down:
Behind us the road stretched back to the East,
On through the meadows to Danbury town.

Silent we sat, for our hearts were full,
Silently watched the reddening sky,
And saw the clouds across the west
Like the phantoms of ships sail silently.

Robert had come with a story to tell,
I knew it before he had said a word,—
It looked from his eyes, and it shadowed his face,—
He was going to march with the Twenty-third.