Explore "Impatience" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
How can I wait until you come to me? / The once fleet mornings linger by the way, / Their sunny smiles touched with malicious glee / At my unrest; they seem to pause, and play / Like truant children, while I sigh and say, / How can I wait?
How can I wait? Of old, the rapid hours / Refused to pause or loiter with me long; / But now they idly fill their hands with flowers, / And make no haste, but slowly stroll among / The summer blooms, not heeding my one song, / How can I wait?