I think I hear the sound of horses' feet br Beating upon the graveled avenue. br Go to the window that looks on the street, br He would not let me die alone, I knew.' br Back to the couch the patient watcher passed, br And said: 'It is the wailing of the blast.' br br br She turned upon her couch and, seeming, slept, br The long, dark lashes shadowing her cheek; br And on and on the weary moments crept, br When suddenly the watcher heard her speak: br 'I think I hear the sound of horses' hoofs-' br And answered, ''Tis the rain upon the roofs.' br br br Unbroken silence, quiet, deep, profound. br The restless sleeper turns: 'How dark, how late! br What is it that I hear-a trampling sound? br I think there is a horseman at the gate.' br The watcher turns away her eyes tear-blind: br 'It is the shutter beating in the wind.' br br br The dread hours passed; the patient clock ticked on; br The weary watcher moved not from her place. br The gray dim shadows of the early dawn br Caught sudden glory from the sleeper's face. br 'He comes! my love! I knew he would!' she cried; br And smiling sweetly in her slumbers, died.