Footfalls

From Footfalls by Henry Kendall

The embers were blinking and clinking away,

   The casement half open was thrown;

  There was nothing but cloud on the skirts of the Day,

   And I sat on the threshold alone!

  And said to the river which flowed by my door

   With its beautiful face to the hill,

  "I have waited and waited, all wearied and sore,

   But my love is a wanderer still!"