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1802–1864

My Lady Waits for Me.

George Pope Morris

My lady waits!—‘ Tis now the hour When morn unbars her gates!— My vessel glides beneath the tower Where now my lady waits.

Her signal flutters from the wall, Above the friendly sea! I life but to obey her call! My lady waits for me.

My lady waits — for me she waits, While morning opes her golden gates. My lady waits!— No fairer flower E'er deck'd the floral grove,

Than she, the pride of hall and bower, The lady of my love! The eastern hills are flecked with light, The land-breeze curls the sea!

By love and truth sustained, for flight, My lady waits for me. My lady waits — for me she waits, While morning opes her golden gates.

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My Lady Waits for Me. · George Pope Morris · Poetry Cove