A Woman's Pride

I Will not look for him, I will not hear My heart’s loud beating, as I strain to see Across the rain forlorn and hopelessly, Nor, starting, think ’t is he that draws so near. I will forget how tenderly and dear He might in coming hold his arms to me, For I will prove what woman’s pride can be When faint love lingers in the darkness drear. I will not—ah, but should he come to-night I think my life might break through very bliss, This little will should so be torn apart That all my soul might fail in golden light And let me die; so do I long for this. Ah, love, thine eyes!—Nay, love—Thy heart, thy heart!