Page:The Pot of Earth.pdf/48

 Seven days I have been waiting for the rain now, The sound of water. Seven days I have been walking up and down in the house. There was nothing to do, there was nothing to do but wait, But wait, but walk and walk And at night hear The patter of dry leaves on the window and wake. And waking, think, The rain! Yes—and hear The patter of dry leaves. There was nothing to do, there was nothing to do but wait, But wait, but wait, but wait, and the wind whispering Something I couldn’t understand beneath the door,