The Tryst

By Katharine Lee Bates

Written after the first operation.

I had come to the trysting place
To meet with Grief.
Like flint I had set my face,
Lest when the dark hour strike
My heart should crumble like
A withered leaf.

Under the aspen tree
I waited till
The stars made sport of me,
Finding it curious
A soul should shudder thus
Before God's will.

A bell began to throb,
And ere it missed
The echo of my sob,
Like silver sunrise flame
Joy through the shadows came
To keep the tryst.