" When and where shall I earliest meet her, &c., &c. "

Yes , but the years run circling fleeter,
Ever they pass me — I watch, I wait —
Ever I dream, and awake to meet her;
She cometh never, or comes too late.

Should I press on? for the day grows shorter —
Ought I to linger? the far end nears;
Ever ahead have I looked, and sought her
On the bright sky line of the gathering years

Now that the shadows are eastward sloping,
As I screen mine eyes from the slanting sun,
Cometh a thought — It is past all hoping,
Look not ahead, she is missed and gone.

Here on the ridge of my upward travel
Ere the life line dips to the darkening vales,
Sadly I turn, and would fain unravel
The entangled maze of a search that fails.

When and where have I seen and passed her?
What are the words I forgot to say?
Should we have met had a boat rowed faster?
Should we have loved, had I stayed that day?

Was it her face that I saw, and started,
Gliding away in a train that crossed?
Was it her form that I once, faint-hearted,
Followed awhile in a crowd and lost?

Was it there she lived, when the train went sweeping
Under the moon through the landscape hushed?
Somebody called me, I woke from sleeping,
Saw but a hamlet — and on we rushed.

Listen and linger — She yet may find me
In the last faint flush of the waning light —
Never a step on the path behind me;
I must journey alone, to the lonely night.

But is there somewhere on earth, I wonder,
A fading figure, with eyes that wait,
Who says, as she stands in the distance yonder,
" He cometh never, or comes too late?"