Page:Poems, Volume 2, Coates, 1916.djvu/166

150 Whose smile caressing,

My wrong redressing,

Tells me the Maid is near!

Blessèd, O blessèd, be thy light!

She comes from the shadows—blissful sight!—

To the breast that bore her

To the yearning for her,

That fills me, day and night!