A VALENTINE
BRING me my lute, the sunlight fades;
The evening breezes, soft and low,
From the far South begin to blow.
Here will I watch the dying day:
Here will I watch the pallid skies
Flush with a myriad changing dyes.
What joy to see the fairy moon
Cradled in folds of rosy light,
The baby sovereign of the night.
What joy to hear, from far away,
The rolling mill-stream roaring go
Between his banks of ice and snow;
Or from the distant mountain’s side,
To hear the murmuring wind, that brings
Promise of Spring between its wings.
Here at my window will I sit;
Here, will I let the peaceful hour
Try on my heart her aëry power.
This happy season sings of Thee,
Where’er I turn my careless eyes
Thine image will before them rise;
Not as thou art in human form;
I cannot shape thy phantom so,
The fleeting shadows come and go.
Thy face is fair with roseate bloom—
I lift my eyes and lo! the sun
Reddens the cloud he looks upon—