Although I wait, my body silent, still;
I cannot call it patience that I feel -
A still body belies an active will,
And hopeful anticipation my real
occupation is. These days that are weeks.
I wait for you, heart as full as the moon.
While active mind her white stillness seeks,
my voice repeats absent Love's hungry tune.
Patience, I am told, would some relief give,
If I would but learn and practice the art;
But in stillness, sweet memories I relive
And sweeter fantasy o'erfills my heart.
Soon, and sooner still, return and end this test!
Then, and only then, with patience spurned, I rest.