Jay-bird tol' me,
Tol' me in the mornin',
Tol' me she'd be there to-night.
Wait there, child; I'm comin'._
Waves of dream!
Spell of the summer night!
Will of the grass that stirs in its sleep!
Desire of the honeysuckle!
And further away,
Like the plash of far-off waves in the fluid night,
The negroes, singing:
_Whip-po'-will tol' me,
Tol' me in the evenin',
"Down by the bend where the cat-tails grow."
Wait there, child; I'm comin'._
Lo, the moon,
Like a galleon sailing the night;
And the wash of the moonlight over the roofs and the trees!
Oh, my bride,
Come down from yonder lattice where you bide
Like a charmed princess in a Persian song!
I look up at your yellow window-panes,
Set in the night with far-off wizardry.
Come down, come down; the night is fain of you,
The garden waits your footstep on its walks.
Lo, the moon,
Like a galleon sailing the night;
And the wash of the moonlight over the red brick wall and the roses!
A gleam of lamplight through an open door!
A footfall like the wind's upon the grass!
A rustle like the wind's among the leaves!...
Dim as a dream of pale peach blooms of light,
Blue in the blue soft pallor of the moon,
She comes between the trees as a faint tune
Falls from a flute far off into the night....
So Death might come to one who knew him Love.
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