His Letter

As Nature wasting for the rain of Spring,
She waited for his letter — over seas,
Long hills lay dusty for her traveling,
The Summer days but bloom-girt travesties !
She waited by the moon, with sightless eyes,
Unbearable her woman’s industries,
She waited brave or pensive, woman wise,
For that uncoming voice across the seas.

Weary the while, she lent her ear to catch
The constant rhythm of a neighbor’s tune,
That clung as bees about a rose-clad thatch,
Piped ’neath her window noon by noon.
Last night she oped the lattice of her heart
And took it in ; — to-day, as if to shame
Inconstancy unto the rover’s faith,
Across the silent seas his letter came !