Waiting

Paul Laurence Dunbar 1872 (Dayton) – 1906

The sun has slipped his tether
And galloped down the west.
(Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
The little bird is sleeping
In the softness of its nest.
Night follows day, day follows dawn,
And so the time has come and gone:
And it's weary, weary waiting, love.

The cruel wind is rising
With a whistle and a wail.
(And it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are seaward straining
For the coming of a sail;
But void the sea, and void the beach
Far and beyond where gaze can reach!
And it's weary, weary waiting, love.

I heard the bell-buoy ringing--
How long ago it seems!
(Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
And ever still, its knelling
Crashes in upon my dreams.
The banns were read, my frock was sewn;
Since then two seasons' winds have blown--
And it's weary, weary waiting, love.

The stretches of the ocean
Are bare and bleak to-day.
(Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are growing dimmer--
Is it tears, or age, or spray?
But I will stay till you come home.
Strange ships come in across the foam!
But it's weary, weary waiting, love.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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Paul Laurence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar was a seminal American poet of the late 19th and early 20th centuries Dunbar gained national recognition for his 1896 Lyrics of a Lowly Life one poem in the collection being Ode to Ethiopia more…

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    "Waiting" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 17 Jan. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/28996/waiting>.

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