Not In Vain I Waited.

She was but a child, a child,          And I a man grown;             Sweet she was, and fresh, and wild,          And, I thought, my own.     What could I do? The long grass groweth,         The long wave floweth with a murmur on:     The why and the wherefore of it all who knoweth?         Ere I thought to lose her she was grown - and gone.     This day or that day in warm spring weather.     The lamb that was tame will yearn to break its tether.     "But if the world wound thee," I said, "come back to me,     Down in the dell wishing - wishing, wishing for thee."             The dews hang on the white may,          Like a ghost it stands,             All in the dusk before day          That folds the dim lands:     Dark fell the skies when once belated,         Sad, and sorrow-fated, I missed the sun;     But wake, heart, and sing, for not in vain I waited.         O clear, O solemn dawning, lo, the maid is won!     Sweet dews, dry early on the grass and clover,     Lest the bride wet her feet while she walks over;     Shine to-day, sunbeams, and make all fair to see:     Down the dell she's coming - coming, coming with me.