That day a fire was in my blood; 
I could have sung: joy wrapt me round; 
The men I met seemed all so good, 
I scarcely knew I trod the ground. 

How easy seemed all toil! I laughed 
To think that once I hated it. 
The sunlight thrilled like wine, I quaffed 
Delight, divine and infinite. 

The very day was not too long; 
I felt so patient; I could wait, 
Being certain. So, the hours in song 
Chimed out the minutes of my fate. 

For she was coming, she, at last, 
I knew: I knew that bolts and bars 
Could stay her not; my heart throbbed fast, 
I was not more certain of the stars. 

The twilight came, grew deeper; now 
The hour struck, minutes passed, and still 
The passionate fervour of her vow 
Ran in my heart's ear audible. 

I had no doubt at all: I knew 
That she would come, and I was then 
Most certain, while the minutes flew: 
Ah, how I scorned all other men! 

Next moment! Ah! it was--was not! 
I heard the stillness of the street. 
Night came. The stars had not forgot. 
The moonlight fell about my feet. 

So I rebuked my heart, and said: 
"Be still, for she is coming, see, 
Next moment--coming. Ah, her tread, 
I hear her coming--it is she!" 

And then a woman passed. The hour 
Rang heavily along the air. 
I had no hope, I had no power 
To think--for thought was but despair. 

A thing had happened. What? My brain 
Dared not so much as guess the thing. 
And yet the sun would rise again 
Next morning! I stood marvelling.