Classic Poem

I SIT and wait for you, Dear, my Dear,
Now the sun is low;
From the far-off town the path runs clear,
And the way you know —
The old, old way that brought you here,
In the Long-Ago.

The white moon climbs, and looks at me —
Her smile is cold;
Something she sees that I do not see —
The moon is old.

I catch a sigh from the winds that flee
Across the wold —
What is the secret they hide from me? —
They have not told.

To Lethe-country your steps were set —
Did you taste that spring
That makes the heart of a man forget
The dearest thing?

Nay! I sit and wait for you, Dear, my Dear,
For the sun is low —
From your far-off place the path runs clear,
And you still must know
The old, old way that brought you here
In the Long-Ago.