So, I shall see her in three days
And just one night,--but nights are short,--
Then two long hours, and that is morn.
See how I come, unchanged, unworn--
Feel, where my life broke off from thine,
How fresh the splinters keep and fine,--Only
a touch and we combine!
Too long, this time of year, the days!
But nights--at least the nights are short,
As night shows where her one moon is,
A hand's-breadth of pure light and bliss,
So, life's night gives my lady birth
And my eyes hold her! What is worth
The rest of heaven, the rest of earth?
O loaded curls, release your store
Of warmth and scent, as once before
The tingling hair did, lights and darks
Outbreaking into fairy sparks
When under curl and curl I pried
After the warmth and scent inside,
Through lights and darks how manifold--The
dark inspired, the light controlled!
As early Art embrowned the gold.
What great fear--should one say, "Three days
That change the world might change as well
Your fortune; and if joy delays,
Be happy that no worse befell."
What small fear--if another says,
"Three days and one short night beside
May throw no shadow on your ways;
But years must teem with change untried,
With chance not easily defied,
With an end somewhere undescried."
No fear!--or if a fear be born
This minute, it dies out in scorn.
Fear? I shall see her in three days
And one night,--now the nights are short,--
Then just two hours, and that is morn.