A GLIMPSE OF THE MOON
ON the lawn a white ghost lingers,
Just beyond the pansy bed,
And it beckons with long fingers,
And it motions with its head.
It’s a pear tree in the noonlight,
But the snowy blossomed tree
Turns a spectre in the moonlight,
And it beckons, beckons me!
AFTER MIDNIGHT
MY window gives on the quiet park,
There is never a soul in sight:
I lean and look through the scented dark,
In the second half of the night.
I'll pack my cares in a strap and buckle,
Throw them aside and forget them all,
While all that I smell is the honeysuckle,
And all that I hear is the waterfall.
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