ANDENKEN.
I.
Through the silent streets of the city,
In the night's unbusy noon,
Up and down in the pallor
Of the languid summer moon,
I wander and think of the village,
And the house in the maple-gloom,
And the porch with the honeysuckles
And the sweet-brier all abloom.
My soul is sick with the fragrance
Of the dewy sweet-brier's breath:
Oh, darling! the house is empty,
And lonesomer than death!
If I call, no one will answer;
If I knock, no one will come;—
The feet are at rest forever,
And the lips are cold and dumb.
The summer moon is shining
So wan and large and still,
And the weary dead are sleeping
In the graveyard under the hill.
II.
We looked at the wide, white circle
Around the autumn moon,
And talked of the change of weather,—
It would rain, to-morrow, or soon.
And the rain came on the morrow,
And beat the dying leaves
From the shuddering boughs of the maples
Into the flooded eaves.