II

Her tears fell ere the dews were dried

She could not look on the sweet heaven,

      Either at morn or eventide.

After the flitting of the bats,

      When thickest dark did trance the sky,

      She drew her casement-curtain by,

And glanced athwart the glooming flats.

            She only said "The night is dreary,

                  He cometh not," she said:

            She said "I am aweary, aweary,

                  I would that I were dead!"