POEMS.
61
But no faint footstep rustles the grass,
And I listen in vain.
And I listen in vain.
IV.
O my lady, your garden lies fair
In the light of the moon;
It is midnight—but why should we care?—
In our hearts is high noon.
Life is sweet as the rose-laden air,
And—love passes so soon.
In the light of the moon;
It is midnight—but why should we care?—
In our hearts is high noon.
Life is sweet as the rose-laden air,
And—love passes so soon.
C. D.
