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She cometh never, or comes too late.

Should I press on? for the day grows shorter—

Ought I to linger? the far end nears;

Ever ahead have I looked, and sought her

On the bright sky-line of the gathering years.

Now that the shadows are eastward sloping,

As I screen mine eyes from the slanting sun,

Cometh a thought—It is past all hoping,

Look not ahead, she is missed and gone.

Here on the ridge of my upward travel,

Ere the life-line dips to the darkening vales,

Sadly I turn, and would fain unravel

The entangled maze of a search that fails.

When and where have I seen and passed her?

What are the words I forgot to say?

Should we have met had a boat rowed faster?

Should we have loved, had I stayed that day?

Was it her face that I saw, and started,

Gliding away in a train that crossed?

Was it her form that I once, faint-hearted,

Followed awhile in a crowd and lost?

Was it there she lived, when the train went sweeping

Under the moon through the landscape hushed?

Somebody called me, I woke from sleeping,