EN SOURDINE
Tranquil in the twilight dense
By the spreading branches made,
Let us breathe the influence
Of the silence and the shade.
Let your heart melt into mine,
And your soul reach out to me,
'Mid the languors of the pine
And the sighing arbute-tree.
Close your eyes, your hands let be
Folded on your slumbering heart,
From whose hold all treachery
Drive forever, and all art.
Let us with the hour accord!
Let us let the gentle wind,
Rippling in the sunburnt sward,
Bring us to a patient mind!
And when Night across the air
Shall her solemn shadow fling,
Touching voice of our despair,
Long the nightingale shall sing.
COLLOQUE SENTIMENTAL
In the deserted park, silent and vast,
Erewhile two shadowy glimmering figures passed.
Their lips were colorless, and dead their eyes;
Their words were scarce more audible than sighs.
In the deserted park, silent and vast,
Two spectres conjured up the buried past.
"Our ancient ecstasy, do you recall?"
"Why, pray, should I remember it at all?"
"Does still your heart at mention of me glow?
Do still you see my soul in slumber?" "No!"
"Ah, blessed, blissful days when our lips met!
You loved me so!" "Quite likely,—I forget."
"How sweet was hope, the sky how blue and fair!"
"The sky grew black, the hope became despair."
Thus walked they 'mid the frozen weeds, these dead,
And Night alone o'erheard the things they said.
La Bonne Chanson