Explore "The Tryst" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Just when all hope had perished in my soul, / And balked desire made havoc with my mind, / My cruel Ladye suddenly grew kind, / And sent these gracious words upon a scroll: / "When knowing Night her dusky scarf has tied / Across the bold, intrusive eyes of day, / Come as a glad, triumphant lover may, / No longer fearing that he be denied."
I read her letter for the hundredth time, / And for the hundredth time my gladdened sight / Blurred with the rapture of my vast delight, / And swooned upon the page. I caught the chime / Of far off bells, and at each silver note / My heart on tiptoe pressed its eager ear / Against my breast; it was such joy to hear / The tolling of the hour of which she wrote.