They made the chamber sweet with flowers and leaves,

And the bed sweet with flowers on which I lay;

While my soul, love-bound, loitered on its way.

I did not hear the birds about the eaves,

Nor hear the reapers talk among the sheaves:

Only my soul kept watch from day to day,

My thirsty soul kept watch for one away:—

Perhaps he loves, I thought, remembers, grieves.

At length there came the step upon the stair,

Upon the lock the old familiar hand:

Then first my spirit seemed to scent the air

Of Paradise; then first the tardy sand

Of time ran golden; and I felt my hair

Put on a glory, and my soul expand.