My tingling finger-tips
Each time the golden syllables
Fall lightly from my lips!
Williamina Parrish
“I LEANED OUT MY WINDOW”
I leaned out my window, I smelt the white clover,
Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate;
Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one lover—
Hush, nightingale, hush! Oh, sweet nightingale, wait
Till I listen and hear