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PoetósferaLa BibliotecaElla Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox · Modernismo

Impatience

inglés

How can I wait until you come to me?
The once fleet mornings linger by the way,
Their sunny smiles touched with malicious glee
At my unrest; they seem to pause, and play
Like truant children, while I sigh and say,
How can I wait?

How can I wait? Of old, the rapid hours
Refused to pause or loiter with me long;
But now they idly fill their hands with flowers,
And make no haste, but slowly stroll among
The summer blooms, not heeding my one song,
How can I wait?

How can I wait? The nights alone are kind;
They reach forth to a future day, and bring
Sweet dreams of you to people all my mind;
And time speeds by on light and airy wing.
I feast upon your face, I no more sing,
How can I wait?

How can I wait? The morning breaks the spell
A pitying night has flung upon my soul.
You are not near me, and I know full well
My heart has need of patience and control;
Before we meet, hours, days, and weeks must roll.
How can I wait?

How can I wait? Oh, love, how can I wait
Until the sunlight of your eyes shall shine
Upon my world that seems so desolate?
Until your hand-clasp warms my blood like wine;
Until you come again, oh, love of mine,
How can I wait?

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox · 1086 piezas más en la casa
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Autor
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Título
Impatience
Lengua
inglés
Época
Modernismo
Sala
La Biblioteca
Identificador
ws-en-impatience--ella-wheeler-wilcox-886ca7
Cita recomendada
Ella Wheeler Wilcox, «Impatience», Poetósfera, poetosfera.com/p/ws-en-impatience--ella-wheeler-wilcox-886ca7.html

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