Long are the hours the sun is above,
But when evening comes I go home to my love.
I’m away the daylight hours and more,
Yet she comes not down to open the door.
She does not meet me upon the stair,—
She sits in my chamber and waits for me there.
As I enter the room she does not move:
I always walk straight up to my love;
And she lets me take my wonted place
At her side, and gaze in her dear dear face.