 | The Autumn Garden |  |
24
At a Casino
The night was scented like a peach,
The balustrade was cold to touch;
The words that linked us, each to each,
Expressed too little,—or too much!
The music sobbed beneath the trees
That soared into a purple sky;
On nights so delicate as these
We dare not dream that we must die.
The balustrade was cold to touch;
The words that linked us, each to each,
Expressed too little,—or too much!
The music sobbed beneath the trees
That soared into a purple sky;
On nights so delicate as these
We dare not dream that we must die.
The breeze came scented o'er the vines
Down limestone mountains ghostly pale;
What boundless hopes the heart confines!
And hopes should never faint nor fail.
The plaintive string, the wailing brass
Struck up a livelier note of glee;
But moods, like clouds at midnight, pass—
And who so sorrowful as we?
Down limestone mountains ghostly pale;
What boundless hopes the heart confines!
And hopes should never faint nor fail.
The plaintive string, the wailing brass
Struck up a livelier note of glee;
But moods, like clouds at midnight, pass—
And who so sorrowful as we?
The laurels flashed their silver tongues
Within the perfumed moonlit night;
Our pulses overflowed with songs
Of life's ineffable delight,—
Then ebbed with fear of growing old,
With nameless dread, with shadowy care;
The balustrade was marble-cold,
And like a peach the wandering air.
Within the perfumed moonlit night;
Our pulses overflowed with songs
Of life's ineffable delight,—
25
With nameless dread, with shadowy care;
The balustrade was marble-cold,
And like a peach the wandering air.
| The Autumn Garden | |