O, sweet Sometime, the gardens bloom the while
I wait ;
Each moment melts a tear of joy before thy gate ;
It is thy pleasure that I burn, — it is my fate,
O, sweet Sometime !
O, when the moment in this interval is born.
When through this sleeping splendor breaks the
lingering morn,
And when thy sensual silence laughs my noise
to scorn —
O, sweet Sometime !
Spare me the vacant moment yet, — O just awhile ;
Expectancy, thy sweetest daughter, will beguile
Aiy yearning hours ; the shades reflected by her
smile
Are now my haunts, O sweet Sometime.
The waiting while, O sweet Sometime, I can
enjoy ;
Thy heralding shadows every beating pang de-
stroy,
And with their breath of musk and myrrh my
soul they cloy,
O, sweet Sometime !
I tremble, I forget, I throb when once I hear
The dying interval announcing thou are near;
A touch, a groan, a kiss and thou wilt disappear,
With bitten lip, O. sweet Sometime !
And then the memory — O, how it will oppress !
Far sweeter is Expectancy — ah, let me press
The vigor from her limbs to mine; Ell yet caress
The waiting while, O, sweet Sometime!