At the Railway Station
Here the night is fierce with light,
Here the great wheels come and go,
Here are partings, waitings, meetings,
Mysteries of joy and woe.
Here is endless haste and change,
Here the ache of streaming eyes,
Radiance of expectant faces,
Breathless askings, brief replies.
Here the jarred, tumultuous air
Throbs and pauses like a bell,
Gladdens with delight of greeting,
Sighs and sorrows with farewell.
Here, ah, here with hungry eyes
I explore the passing throng.
Restless I await your coming
Whose least absence is so long.
Faces, faces pass me by,
Meaningless, and blank, and dumb,
Till my heart grows faint and sickens
Lest at last you should not come.
Then—I see you. And the blood
Surges back to heart and brain.
Eyes meet mine,—and Heaven opens.
You are at my side again.
Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle
I
Forever shed your sweetness on the night,
Dear honeysuckle, flower of our delight!
Forever breathe the mystery of that hour
When her hand touched me, lightlier than a flower,—
And life became forever strange and sweet,
A gift to lay with worship at her feet.
Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle
II
Oh, flower of the honeysuckle,
Tell me how often the long night through
She turns in her dream to the open window,
She turns in her dream to you.
Oh, flower of the honeysuckle,
Tell me how tenderly out of the dew
You breathe her a dream of that night of wonder
When life was fashioned anew.
Oh, flower of the honeysuckle,
Tell me how long ere, the sweet night through,
She will turn not to you but to me in the darkness,
And dream and desire come true.