11


MY EYES HAVE lost their sleep, in watching; yet if I do not meet thee still it is sweet to watch.

My heart sits in the shadow of the rains waiting for thy love; if she is deprived still it is sweet to hope.

They walk away in their different paths leaving me behind; if I am alone still it is sweet to listen for thy footsteps.

The wistful face of the earth weaving its autumn mists wakens longing in my heart; if it is in vain still it is sweet to feel the pain of longing.

 

 

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