| |
BEAUTIFUL was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest, | |
| Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the river | |
| Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the moonlight, | |
| Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious spirit. | |
| Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the garden | 5 |
| Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and confessions | |
| Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian. | |
| Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows and night-dews, | |
| Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical moonlight | |
| Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longings, | 10 |
| As, through the garden gate, and beneath the shade of the oak-trees, | |
| Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie. | |
| Silent it lay, with a heavy haze upon it, and fireflies | |
| Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite numbers. | |
| Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens, | 15 |
| Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel and worship, | |
| Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple, | |
| As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, “Upharsin.” | |
| And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fireflies, | |
| Wandered alone, and she cried, “O Gabriel! O my beloved! | 20 |
| Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee? | |
| Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me? | |
| Ah! how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie! | |
| Ah! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands around me! | |
| Ah! how often beneath this oak, returning from labor, | 25 |
| Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of me in thy slumbers. | |
| When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee?” | |
| Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoorwill sounded | |
| Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the neighboring thickets, | |
| Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into silence. | 30 |
| “Patience!” whispered the oaks from oracular caverns of darkness; | |
| And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, “To-morrow!” | |
| |
