Spinsterhood.

A poem by Freeman Edwin Miller

Alone, alone, in the twilight gray,
In the shadows so dark and dim,
I watch through all of the weary hours,
And I wait with my heart for him;
For him who'll come, when he comes at all,
As my king and warrior bold;
Whose form so tall is my fortress wall
And whose heart is a chunk of gold.

Again, again, do I dream the dreams,
All the dreams that my young heart knew,
And through my soul do the yearnings thrill
As of old they were wont to do;
I know in truth when his face I see,
I shall fall at his shining feet,
Where'er it be and whoever is he,
In the light of his glances sweet.

I wait in vain for the sounds that rise
From the tread of his horse's hoof,
And still the mists hide his form away
And forever he stays aloof;
His shining face and his eyes so bright
In the shades of the distance hide,
And out of the night with the stars bedight
He hath never approached my side!

O, years, O, wonderful tide of years,
From the shadows of time set free
My king, my lover, my life, and bring
To my heart what is most of me!
Somewhere in pain do his yearnings grope
For the joys that my love would bring;
O, up the slope of his life-long hope,
Guide the feet of my royal king!

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