'There's a footstep coming: look out and see,' 'The leaves are falling, the wind is calling;No one cometh across the lea.'--
'There's a footstep coming; O sister, look.'-- 'The ripple flashes, the white foam dashes;No one cometh across the brook.'--
'But he promised that he would come: To-night, to-morrow, in joy or sorrow,He must keep his word, and must come home.
'For he promised that he would come: His word was given; from earth or heaven,He must keep his word, and must come home.
'Go to sleep, my sweet sister Jane; You can slumber, who need not numberHour after hour, in doubt and pain.
'I shall sit here awhile, and watch; Listening, hoping, for one hand gropingIn deep shadow to find the latch.'
After the dark, and before the light, One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping,Who had watched and wept the weary night.
After the night, and before the day, One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping--Watching, weeping for one away.
There came a footstep climbing the stair; Some one standing out on the landingShook the door like a puff of air--
Shook the door, and in he passed. Did he enter? In the room centreStood her husband: the door shut fast.
'O Robin, but you are cold-- Chilled with the night-dew: so lily-white youLook like a stray lamb from our fold.
'O Robin, but you are late: Come and sit near me—sit here and cheer me.'--(Blue the flame burnt in the grate.)
'Lay not down your head on my breast: I cannot hold you, kind wife, nor fold youIn the shelter that you love best.
'Feel not after my clasping hand: I am but a shadow, come from the meadowWhere many lie, but no tree can stand.
'We are trees which have shed their leaves: Our heads lie low there, but no tears flow there;Only I grieve for my wife who grieves.
'I could rest if you would not moan Hour after hour; I have no powerTo shut my ears where I lie alone.
'I could rest if you would not cry; But there's no sleeping while you sit weeping--Watching, weeping so bitterly.'--
'Woe's me! woe's me! for this I have heard. Oh night of sorrow!—oh black to-morrow!Is it thus that you keep your word?
'O you who used so to shelter me Warm from the least wind—why, now the east windIs warmer than you, whom I quake to see.
'O my husband of flesh and blood, For whom my mother I left, and brother,And all I had, accounting it good,
'What do you do there, underground, In the dark hollow? I'm fain to follow.What do you do there?—what have you found?'--
'What I do there I must not tell: But I have plenty: kind wife, content ye:It is well with us—it is well.
'Tender hand hath made our nest; Our fear is ended, our hope is blendedWith present pleasure, and we have rest.'--
'Oh, but Robin, I'm fain to come, If your present days are so pleasant;For my days are so wearisome.
'Yet I'll dry my tears for your sake: Why should I tease you, who cannot please youAny more with the pains I take?'