Because that I am weak, my love, and ill
I cannot follow the impatient feet
Of my desire, but sit and watch the beat
Of the unpitying pendulum fulfill
The hour appointed for the air to thrill
And brighten at your coming. O my sweet,
The tale of moments is at last complete—
The tryst is broken on the gusty hill!
O lady, faithful-footed, loyal-eyed,
The long leagues silence me; yet doubt me not:
Think rather that the clock and sun have lied
And all too early you have sought the spot.
For lo! despair has darkened all the light,
And till I see your face it still is night.
Public-domain source text
One Morning
by Ambrose Bierce
Source record
This is a source transcription from Standard Ebooks, published in Past Poetry’s public-domain archive without line-by-line editorial notes. Public-domain source edition. Availability can vary by territory.
View the source edition →