Here you will find the Poem Tryst of poet Helen Hunt Jackson
Somewhere thou awaitest, And I, with lips unkissed, Weep that thus to latest Thou puttest off our tryst! The golden bowls are broken, The silver cords untwine; Almond flowers in token Have bloomed,---that I am thine! Others who would fly thee In cowardly alarms, Who hate thee and deny thee, Thou foldest in thine arms! How shall I entreat thee No longer to withhold? I dare not go to meet thee, O lover, far and cold! O lover, whose lips chilling So many lips have kissed, Come, even if unwilling, And keep thy solemn tryst!