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.