 | The poems of Trumbull Stickney |  |
193
XXV
SEPARATION
Good-night, my sweetheart. Spring has come again
And the May moonlight strokes the rainy trees.
The sky is fresh and happy; fireflies
Rise in its azure edge and wane.
And the May moonlight strokes the rainy trees.
The sky is fresh and happy; fireflies
Rise in its azure edge and wane.
Alone I go and lay me down alone,
Yet on my lips the sweetness of thy breast,—
Yet on thy bosom lay my cheek to rest
And fold my soul forever in thy own.
Yet on my lips the sweetness of thy breast,—
Yet on thy bosom lay my cheek to rest
And fold my soul forever in thy own.
| The poems of Trumbull Stickney | |