Love, my heart is faint with waiting, <br />Faint with hope and joy deferred, <br />All night long at this sad grating, <br />Sleepless like a prisoned bird, <br />Singing low, <br />Singing slow: <br />Come, ah come, love.--Not a word! <br /> <br />Love, in vain for thee this token <br />Did I tie, poor silken cord, <br />To my window. See, 'tis broken <br />And the strands fly heavenward. <br />All are free, <br />All but me. <br />Come, ah come, love.--Not a word! <br /> <br />Lo, the first sad streak of morning <br />Cleaves the heaven like a sword. <br />Love, too late I hear the warning, <br />Of thy footstep on the sward. <br />Yet, ah yet, <br />Though 'tis late, <br />Come; but mind, love, not a word!<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-a-word-4/
