'NEVER,' he said, 'nevermore, <br />In the murmuring stillness of night <br />Shall I wait for her hand on my door, <br />Confident, light; <br />Still is the night as before, <br />And the stars unforgettably bright. <br /> <br />'Once from the deep woodland calms <br />At midnight a wild wind broke, <br />Shaking the cedars and palms <br />And the silver-gray oak; <br />And she, who had slept in my arms, <br />Suddenly woke. <br /> <br />'Pity me then, for it blew <br />Last night again from the woodlands so deep, <br />Where mosses and moisture and dew <br />Verdure eternal keep; <br />From the brooks and the glades that we knew, <br />It woke me from sleep. <br /> <br />'How can she know and refrain? <br />How being mine can she leave me like this? <br />Go, when this only is plain, <br />Life is no more than our kiss <br />Life is so lavish of pain, <br />So niggard of bliss!'<br /><br />Alice Duer Miller<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-penintent/
