Awhile sat silent, then she thought: “My sisters loiter long.”
That sultry noon had waned away, shadows had waxed great:
“Surely,” she thought within herself, “My sisters loiter late.”
She rose, and peered out at the door, with patient heart to wait,
And heard a distant nightingale complaining of its mate;
Then down the garden slope she walked, down to the garden gate,
Leaned on the rail and waited so.
The slope was lightened by her eyes like summer lightning fair,
Like rising of the haloed moon lightened her glimmering hair,
While her face lightened like the sun whose dawn is rosy white.