’Tis long to wait, but sure he’ll come again;
And I could starve and bless him, but my child, for you,—
Oh, fiend! oh, fiend!—Hush! the clock strikes two!
Hark, how the sign-board creaks,—the blast howls by;
Moan, moan, ye winds, through the cloudy sky.
Ha! ’tis his knock! he comes, he comes once more;
No, ’tis but the lattice-flaps—my hope, my hope is o’er!
Can he desert us thus? he knows I stay
Night after night, in loneliness to pray,
For his return, and yet he sees no tear;