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Edith Nesbit - A Life`s Story
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THE morning broke in a pearly haze, 
    Then the east grew duskly red: 
`Oh, my only day, oh, my day of days, 
    To-day he will come,` I said. 


As the sun climbed up in the clearer sky, 
    The mists fell down at his feet; 
`There is sunshine too in my heart,` said I, 
    `For to-day is the day we meet; 


Perhaps even now he is journeying fast-- 
    Perhaps he is almost here.` 
And my heart leaped up at each foot that passed, 
    With the thought that he might be near. 


In my garden the fairest flowers that grew 
    I plucked for him, sweet, dew-wet, 
And held them ready, the whole day through, 
    To gladden him when we met. 


The sun shone warm on the longing earth, 
    That thrilled to his fervent kiss; 
But what to me was the sun`s smile worth, 
    When I longed for that smile of his? 


The hours in their flight seemed strangely slow 
    For the sake of the hour to be; 
`Go swiftly now--and more slowly go 
    When he shall be here with me.` 


But the level light of late afternoon 
    Fell cold on me, still alone; 
My flowers were dying, gathered too soon, 
    And my whole day`s work undone. 


With empty heart and unsatisfied 
    I turned from the red sunset: 
`Short time for his coming is left,` I cried, 
    `It shall not be evening yet.` 


But the sky grows pale, and a weak wind wakes, 
    And long flights of birds go home, 
And slowly and surely the day`s spell breaks, 
    And I know that he will not come. 


Perhaps he has never turned my way, 
    Nor known how my heart would wait; 
Perhaps he has sought me the whole long day, 
    And has failed at my very gate; 


Perhaps all these hours of increasing pain 
    Have been only a dream of a day, 
And after the night I shall wake again, 
    And `To-day he comes,` I shall say.
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