The Poetry Corner


By Victoria Mary Sackville-West

I wrote the burning words to you That meant so much to me. I sent them speeding straight to you, To you across the sea; I waited with sure reckoning For your reply to me. I waited, and the counted day Fruitlessly came and went; I made excuse for the delay, Pitiable confident. I knew to-morrow's light must bring The words you must have sent. And still I stand on that dim verge And look across the sea; The waves have changed into a dirge Their volubility. And in my disillusioned heart Is a little grave for me. But still with shaded eyes I gaze As mournfully I sing, And one by one the trailing days, As they no message bring, Fall with their slow monotony As beads fall from a string.