'Wait for a little—and if my woe
Be greater than I can bear alone,
By the sign of the flower shall you know—
By the sign of the withered violet,
When the time is come to reseek your own'
So spake she, as parting our two mouths met.
And the grey sea sighed 'She is sick to death—
Go swiftly and comfort the heart of her '—
'Go swiftly' I heard in the breeze's breath.
But without the sign I dared not stir,
For I waited the withered violet.
And the grey cloud hurried low to the land,
And he called—'go swiftly'—but I was still
Waiting the sign of the withered flower,
That I might be certain & understand,
Lest I missed the fortunate day and hour,
And thro' too much Love, Love came to ill
And the night came down and cried aloud,
Whenever the night winds 'gan to blow
'Go swiftly, while time remaineth yet'
But I listened neither to night or cloud,
For I waited the sign of the violet
And without the sign, I dared not go