How can I wait?  The morning breaks the spell
       A pitying night has flung upon my soul. 
     You are not near me, and I know full well
       My heart has need of patience and control;
       Before we meet, hours, days, and weeks must roll. 
          How can I wait?

     How can I wait?  Oh, love, how can I wait
       Until the sunlight of your eyes shall shine
     Upon my world that seems so desolate? 
       Until your hand-clasp warms my blood like wine;
       Until you come again, oh, love of mine,
          How can I wait?

     COMMUNISM.

     When my blood flows calm as a purling river,
       When my heart is asleep and my brain has sway,
     It is then that I vow we must part forever,
       That I will forget you, and put you away
     Out of my life, as a dream is banished
       Out of the mind when the dreamer awakes;
     That I know it will be, when the spell has vanished,
       Better for both of our sakes.

     When the court of the mind is ruled by Reason,
       I know it is wiser for us to part;
     But Love is a spy who is plotting treason,
       In league with that warm, red rebel, the Heart. 
     They whisper to me that the King is cruel,
       That his reign is wicked, his law a sin;
     And every word they utter is fuel
       To the flame that smoulders within.

     And on nights like this, when my blood runs riot
       With the fever of youth and its mad desires,
     When my brain in vain bids my heart be quiet,
       When my breast seems the centre of lava-fires,
     Oh, then is the time when most I miss you,
       And I swear by the stars and my soul and say
     That I will have you and hold you and kiss you,
       Though the whole world stands in the way.

     And like Communists, as mad, as disloyal,
       My fierce emotions roam out of their lair;
     They hate King Reason for being royal;
       They would fire his castle, and burn him there. 
     Oh, Love! they would clasp you and crush you and kill you,
       In the insurrection of uncontrol. 
     Across the miles, does this wild war thrill you
       That is raging in my soul?

     THE COMMON LOT.

     It is a common fate—­a woman’s lot—­
       To waste on one the riches of her soul,
     Who takes the wealth she gives him, but cannot
       Repay the interest, and much less the whole.

     As I look up into your eyes and wait
       For some response to my fond gaze and touch,
     It seems to me there is no sadder fate
       Than to be doomed to loving overmuch.

     Are you not kind?  Ah, yes, so very kind—­
       So thoughtful of my comfort, and so true. 
     Yes, yes, dear heart; but I, not being blind,
       Know that I am not loved as I love you.