AT LAST

She is waiting for his coming, As she waited long ago, Ere her sweet eyes were pain-haunted Or her hair was touched with snow; Ere that look of patient pathos Downward curved her tender lips, Or across her life’s young morning Fell a shadow of eclipse. He is coming—but his footsteps Know not now youth’s bounding grace, And a world of sin and suffering Is recorded in his face; Airy dreams of high ambition That he cherished in the past— All have vanished—and aweary He returns to her at last. In the old familiar garden Where he first breathed love’s fond vow, With new hopes, like the new roses Sprung from old roots, they stand now; And the past is past for ever, She forgives, and he forgets, For the present peace has buried Years of sorrows and regrets.