 | The poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton |  |
62
DOWN THE RIVER.
TO E. M. H.
Down the wonderful, magical river
We drifted that summer night;
And we almost heard the shiver
Of the wind through the trees on our right;
And the moon-rays seemed to quiver
On your face, like the moonlight white.
We drifted that summer night;
And we almost heard the shiver
Of the wind through the trees on our right;
And the moon-rays seemed to quiver
On your face, like the moonlight white.
And the tide with a soft resistance
Withstood our keel from below;
But the yacht with its firm insistence
Dropped down to the city below;
And we saw in the mystical distance
The white skiffs come and go.
Withstood our keel from below;
But the yacht with its firm insistence
Dropped down to the city below;
And we saw in the mystical distance
The white skiffs come and go.
And your eyes in the moonlight tender
Had things as tender to say;
And your hand, so timid and slender,
In mine forgetfully lay;
And how my dream shall I render,
As we drifted into the bay?
Had things as tender to say;
And your hand, so timid and slender,
In mine forgetfully lay;
And how my dream shall I render,
As we drifted into the bay?
63
But there were the lights of the city,
And in vain was the white moon white;
And the town, with its glare, had no pity
For the dream of a summer night;
So I turn the dream to a ditty
To sing to you, Heart's Delight!
And in vain was the white moon white;
And the town, with its glare, had no pity
For the dream of a summer night;
So I turn the dream to a ditty
To sing to you, Heart's Delight!
| The poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton | |