When I walked roseless tracks and wide,

Ere dawned your date for meeting me,

O why did you not cry Halloo

Across the stretch between, and say:

“We move, while years as yet divide,

On closing lines which—though it be

You know me not nor I know you—

Will intersect and join some day!”

   Then well I had borne

   Each scraping thorn;

   But the winters froze,

   And grew no rose;

   No bridge bestrode

   The gap at all;

   No shape you showed,

   And I heard no call!