THREE DAYS MORE. . . .
Not love's command
Could dry one league of sea;
Or even God's hand
Fold up one mile of land,
To bring you sooner unto me!
Could dry one league of sea;
Or even God's hand
Fold up one mile of land,
To bring you sooner unto me!
There are but three more days to climb—
To-day, to-morrow, and its mate,
Till that day! . . . Did love know to wait
Would it be love? Not in my time
Or in my blood!
My thought, elate,
Swells like a rising sea to flood
Covering barren days between
And brings you (as love should)
Till you stand there—my lord, my light, my good! . . .
Ere the frail screen
Of fancy falls to my embrace
Sudden, the spell snaps short to Fate!
Till that day—when I see your face—
There are still three dark days to climb,
To-day, to-morrow, and its mate.
To-day, to-morrow, and its mate,
Till that day! . . . Did love know to wait
Would it be love? Not in my time
Or in my blood!
My thought, elate,
Swells like a rising sea to flood
Covering barren days between
And brings you (as love should)
Till you stand there—my lord, my light, my good! . . .
Ere the frail screen
Of fancy falls to my embrace
Sudden, the spell snaps short to Fate!
Till that day—when I see your face—
There are still three dark days to climb,
To-day, to-morrow, and its mate.