How can I wait until you come to me?
  The once fleet mornings linger by the way;
Their sunny smiles touched with malicious glee
  At my unrest, they seem to pause, and play
  Like truant children, while I sigh and say,
                  How can I wait?

How can I wait? Of old, the rapid hours
  Refused to pause or loiter with me long;
But now they idly fill their hands with flowers,
  And make no haste, but slowly stroll among
  The summer blooms, not heeding my one song,
                  How can I wait?

How can I wait? The nights alone are kind;
  They reach forth to a future day, and bring
Sweet dreams of you to people all my mind;
  And time speeds by on light and airy wing.
  I feast upon your face, I no more sing,
                  How can I wait?

How can I wait? The morning breaks the spell
  A pitying night has flung upon my soul.
You are not near me, and I know full well
  My heart has need of patience and control;
  Before we meet, hours, days and weeks must roll.
                  How can I wait?

How can I wait? Oh, love, how can I wait
  Until the sunlight of your eyes shall shine
Upon my world that seems so desolate?
  Until your hand-clasp warms my blood like wine;
  Until you come again, oh, Love of mine,
                  How can I wait?

Poems of passion by Ella Wheeler
Chicago : Belford, Clarke & Co, 1883.

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