152. Specula

WHEN He appoints to meet thee, go thou forth—

It matters not

If south or north,

Bleak waste or sunny plot.

Nor think, if haply He thou seek’st be late,

He does thee wrong.

To stile or gate

Lean thou thy head, and long!

It may be that to spy thee He is mounting

Upon a tower,

Or in thy counting

Thou hast mista’en the hour.

But, if He comes not, neither do thou go

Till Vesper chime.

Belike thou then shalt know

He hath been with thee all the time.