The Tryst
Walter de la Mare
"O whither are you faring to, my sweetheart?
How far now are you journeying, my dear?"
"I am climbing to the brink of yonder hill-top,
Naught human far or near."
"And what will you be seeking there, my sweetheart?
What happy scene is thence surveyed. my dear?"
"Twill be night-tide when outwearied I come thither,
And star-shine icy clear."
"But what will you be brooding on, my sweetheart?
What fantasies of darkness will appear?"
"My self will keep a tryst there - bleak and lonely -
My own heart's secrets I shall share."
"But what will be the manner of your greeting?
What word will you then whisper - no one near?"
"Ah, he who loved me once would know the answer,
Were he still true, my dear."
