Dorian Hargrove 6:30 p.m., Sept. 1
When shall I look upon my Lord?
- With head on hand before my door,
- I sit and wait in vain.
- Along the road to Pandhari
- My heart and eyes I strain.
- When shall I look upon my Lord?
- When shall I see him come?
- Of all the passing days and hours
- I count the heavy sum.
- With watching long my eyelids throb,
- My limbs with sore distress,
- But my impatient heart forgets
- My body’s weariness.
- Sleep is no longer sweet to me;
- I care not for my bed;
- Forgotten are my house and home,
- All thirst and hunger fled.
- Says Tuka, Blest shall be the day, —
- Ah, soon may it betide! —
- When one shall come from Pandhari
- To summon back the bride.