Ventures Into Verse / Being various ballads, ballades, rondeaux, triolets, songs, quatrains, odes and roundels, all rescued from the potters' field of old files and here given decent burial

by H. L. Mencken

But the night goes by and the dawn-winds blow

From the glimmering East and the Hills of Snow,

And I wait, sweetheart, I wait alone,

For a smile from thee, my own!

Awake! e'er the gong of the muezzin

Peals forth for another day;

E'er its loveless, barren toil begin

But a smile from you I pray!

But a smile from your soul-enslaving eyes,—

As brightly dark as the midnight skies,—