Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/117

Rh Who sat here in the shadows silently,

Thinking—at last the longed-for miracle!

Thinking to me she moved, and all was well.

She saw me not, yet dimly could descry

That beautiful hand of his, and with a sigh

Sank on his fair and treacherous breast. The spell

Of the Evil One was on me. All in vain

I strove to speak—my parchèd lips were dumb.

See! see! the wan and whitening window-pane!

See, in the night, the awful morning bloom!

Too late she will know all! Heaven! send thy rain

Of death, nor let the sun of wakening come!

BEFORE SUNRISE

"THE WOODS THAT BRING THE SUNSET NEAR"

wind from out the west is blowing;

The homeward-wandering cows are lowing;