 | A little book of tribune verse |  |
112
THE RECREANT.
While the stars are twinkling bright above
And Luna sinks in western steeps,
Her lonely watch fair Claudia keeps,
And broods upon her maiden love.
And Luna sinks in western steeps,
Her lonely watch fair Claudia keeps,
And broods upon her maiden love.
Upon her pallid cheek a tear
Strays from her wan and fireless eye,
And from her lips escapes a sigh,
“Oh, why is not Alberto here!”
Strays from her wan and fireless eye,
And from her lips escapes a sigh,
“Oh, why is not Alberto here!”
Is that his voice in yonder dale,
That floats like music on the air?
No, no, Alberto is not there,
'Tis but the tuneful nightingale.
That floats like music on the air?
No, no, Alberto is not there,
'Tis but the tuneful nightingale.
Is it his step upon the hill,
That brings the bloom to Claudia's cheeks?
Nay, this a thirsty mule that seeks
Refreshment at the mountain rill.
That brings the bloom to Claudia's cheeks?
Nay, this a thirsty mule that seeks
Refreshment at the mountain rill.
Heaven help thee in thy piteous plight,
O Claudia, fair as summer skies;
Compose thy sorrow, wipe thine eyes,
Alberto will not come tonight,
O Claudia, fair as summer skies;
Compose thy sorrow, wipe thine eyes,
Alberto will not come tonight,
For in the midnight's solemn hush,
He breathes a vow that smells of wine,
He holds a hand that is not thine,
He dallies with a bobtail flush.
He breathes a vow that smells of wine,
He holds a hand that is not thine,
He dallies with a bobtail flush.
| A little book of tribune verse | |