The Poetry Corner

Expectation.

By John Milton Hay

Roll on, O shining sun, To the far seas! Bring down, ye shades of eve, The soft, salt breeze! Shine out, O stars, and light My darling's pathway bright, As through the summer night She comes to me. No beam of any star Can match her eyes; Her smile the bursting day In light outvies. Her voice - the sweetest thing Heard by the raptured spring When waking wild-woods ring - She comes to me. Ye stars, more swiftly wheel O'er earth's still breast; More wildly plunge and reel In the dim west! The earth is lone and lorn, Till the glad day be born, Till with the happy morn She comes to me.