Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume II. Love. 1904. | | | | IV. Wooing and Winning | | The Brookside | | Richard Monckton Milnes, Lord Houghton (1809–1885) |
| | | I WANDERED by the brookside, | |
| I wandered by the mill; | |
| I could not hear the brook flow,— | |
| The noisy wheel was still; | |
| There was no burr of grasshopper, | 5 |
| No chirp of any bird, | |
| But the beating of my own heart | |
| Was all the sound I heard. | |
| |
| I sat beneath the elm-tree; | |
| I watched the long, long shade, | 10 |
| And, as it grew still longer, | |
| I did not feel afraid; | |
| For I listened for a footfall, | |
| I listened for a word,— | |
| But the beating of my own heart | 15 |
| Was all the sound I heard. | |
| |
| He came not,—no, he came not,— | |
| The night came on alone,— | |
| The little stars sat, one by one, | |
| Each on his golden throne; | 20 |
| The evening wind passed by my cheek, | |
| The leaves above were stirred,— | |
| But the beating of my own heart | |
| Was all the sound I heard. | |
| |
| Fast silent tears were flowing, | 25 |
| When something stood behind; | |
| A hand was on my shoulder,— | |
| I knew its touch was kind: | |
| It drew me nearer,—nearer,— | |
| We did not speak one word, | 30 |
| For the beating of our own hearts | |
| Was all the sound we heard. | | | | |
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