James Whitcomb Riley (1849–1916)

WAIT for the morning! Ah! we wait indeed

For daylight, we who toss about through stress

Of vacant-armed desires and emptiness

Of all the warm, warm touches that we need,

And the warm kisses upon which we feed

Our famished lips in fancy! May God bless

The starved lips of us with but one caress

Warm as the yearning blood our poor hearts bleed!

… A wild prayer!—bite thy pillow, praying so—

Toss this side, and whirl that, and moan for dawn;

Let the clock’s signals dribble out their woe,

And Time be drained of sorrow! Long ago

We heard the crowing cock, with answer drawn,

As hoarsely sad at throat as sobs…. Pray on!