SERENADE.
"Come out! the moon is white, and on the river
The white mist lies;
The twilight deepens, and the stars grow brighter
In the pure, perfect skies;
The dewy woods with silent voices call you;
Come out, heart of my heart, light of my eyes!
"Come out, for where you are not, beauty is not;
Come out, my Dear!
See how the fairies will adorn the meadows
The moment you draw near;
And the world wear that robe and crown of glory
It never wears except when you are here."
In vain!—a little light among the jasmine
Her lattice gleams,
Her white hand at the closing of it lingers
A moment—so it seems—
To drop an unseen rose down to her lover:
White rose—whose scent will sanctify his dreams!
E. Nesbit