'There's a footstep coming: look out and see,'

   'The leaves are falling, the wind is calling;

No one cometh across the lea.'—



'There's a footstep coming; O sister, look.'—

   'The ripple flashes, the white foam dashes;

No one cometh across the brook.'—



'But he promised that he would come:

   To-night, to-morrow, in joy or sorrow,

He must keep his word, and must come home.



'For he promised that he would come:

   His word was given; from earth or heaven,

He must keep his word, and must come home.



'Go to sleep, my sweet sister Jane;

   You can slumber, who need not number

Hour after hour, in doubt and pain.



'I shall sit here awhile, and watch;

   Listening, hoping, for one hand groping

In deep shadow to find the latch.'



After the dark, and before the light,

   One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping,

Who had watched and wept the weary night.



After the night, and before the day,

   One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping—

Watching, weeping for one away.



There came a footstep climbing the stair;

   Some one standing out on the landing

Shook the door like a puff of air—



Shook the door, and in he passed.

   Did he enter? In the room centre

Stood her husband: the door shut fast.



'O Robin, but you are cold—

   Chilled with the night-dew: so lily-white you

Look like a stray lamb from our fold.



'O Robin, but you are late:

   Come and sit near me—sit here and cheer me.'—

(Blue the flame burnt in the grate.)



'Lay not down your head on my breast:

   I cannot hold you, kind wife, nor fold you

In the shelter that you love best.



'Feel not after my clasping hand:

   I am but a shadow, come from the meadow

Where many lie, but no tree can stand.



'We are trees which have shed their leaves:

   Our heads lie low there, but no tears flow there;

Only I grieve for my wife who grieves.



'I could rest if you would not moan

   Hour after hour; I have no power

To shut my ears where I lie alone.



'I could rest if you would not cry;

   But there's no sleeping while you sit weeping—

Watching, weeping so bitterly.'—



'Woe's me! woe's me! for this I have heard.

   Oh night of sorrow!—oh black to-morrow!

Is it thus that you keep your word?



'O you who used so to shelter me

   Warm from the least wind—why, now the east wind

Is warmer than you, whom I quake to see.



'O my husband of flesh and blood,

   For whom my mother I left, and brother,

And all I had, accounting it good,



'What do you do there, underground,

   In the dark hollow? I'm fain to follow.

What do you do there?—what have you found?'—



'What I do there I must not tell:

   But I have plenty: kind wife, content ye:

It is well with us—it is well.



'Tender hand hath made our nest;

   Our fear is ended, our hope is blended

With present pleasure, and we have rest.'—



'Oh, but Robin, I'm fain to come,

   If your present days are so pleasant;

For my days are so wearisome.



'Yet I'll dry my tears for your sake:

   Why should I tease you, who cannot please you

Any more with the pains I take?'