I

The leaves are shivering on the thorn, Drearily; And sighing wakes the sad-eyed morn, Wearily.

I press my thin face to the pane, Drearily; But never will he come again. Wearily.

The rain hath sicklied day with haze, Drearily; My tears run downward as I gaze, Wearily.

The mist and morn spake unto me, Drearily:-- "What is this thing God gives to thee, Wearily?"

I said unto the morn and mist, Drearily:-- "The babe unborn whom sin hath kissed, Wearily."

The morn and mist spake unto me, Drearily:-- "What is this thing which thou dost see, Wearily?"

I said unto the mist and morn, Drearily:-- "The shame of man and woman's scorn, Wearily."

"He loved thee not," they made reply, Drearily.-- I said, "Would God had let me die!" Wearily.