THE moon shines pale in the Western sky,
Like a pearl set over a brow that blushes;
There is many a homeward bird in the air
And the hedges thrill with the thrushes.
Though my love be further away from me
Than the East from the West, or the Day from the Night,
I have turned my face to his dwelling-place,
And I bid him ” good-night,” “good-night.”
Though he less can feel my hurrying breath
Than the tree the bird that lilts on its bough,
Yet since the winds Love’s messengers be,
They will bear him my kisses, I trow! –
O moon! shine first on my lips and then
Go shine on the forehead of him I love!
He will dream perchance that an angel’s wing
Has quivered his brow above ! –
And sing, ye birds, in his ears the song
My heart is singing within my breast
It will thrill his heartstrings with ecstasy,
And possess his soul with rest.
Ye too, 0 fragrance of earth and flower,
And voices of night in May!
Watch near him until in the Eastern field
Blossom the roses of day.
But thou, 0 wind lay close on his lips
The kisses thou hast in thy flight,
And he will stir in his sleep, and wake
And whisper -” My heart – good-night.”
Amelie Rives
(Amelie Rives)
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