Don’t Tell the World that You’re Waiting for Me


THREE summers have gone since the first time we met, love,
And still ’tis in vain that I ask thee to wed ;
I hear no reply but a gentle ” Not yet, love,”
With a smile of your lip, and a shake of your head.
Ah! how oft have I whispered, how oft have I sued thee,
And breathed my soul’s question of ” When shall it be?”
You know, dear, how long and how truly I’ve wooed thee,
So don’t tell the world that you’re waiting for me.

I have fashioned a home, where the fairies might dwell, love,
I’ve planted the myrtle, the rose, and the vine ;
But the cottage to me is a mere hermit’s cell, love,
And the bloom will be dull till the flowers are thine.
I’ve a ring of bright gold, which I gaze on when lonely,
And sigh with Hope’s eloquence, ” When will it be?”
There needs but thy ” Yes,” love one little word only,
So don’t tell the world that you’re waiting for me.


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Don’t Tell the World that You’re Waiting for Me