To Lavender
Here the night grows cold and still
With its limpid show of a half-bitten moon and barren stars.
Just now it seems I could sing my song
And you would understand;
Long before I utter my doubts
Your small, small charming eyes
Would grow soft and sparkle with knowing
Of all that love prompts a trembling voice to speak,
And your lips would be a wine
Washing all stuttering words and go sweetly down.
I have often returned from these reveries –
And soon would hazard such visits again –
Where I caressed your blooming cheeks,
Telling myself that these few years between us
Should not creep upon the vines of love so gingerly,
Knowing all the while that you, good girl,
Would have taken a timely supper, even today,
So sure of going to bed on time.
Well, your charm has kept this idler awake,
Fondly dreaming a fruitless dream.
Oh, what a dear little secret we share!
Your youth has blossomed, and likewise, my folly
To unburden life like a warbler’s song;
To goad resolve for grave pursuits
And spur a thousand cheerful caprices.
Even the weather conspires, and birds twitter:
Tree-tooh tu-treeh-t-t-t-t-tuh
Sweeh sweeh plee plee plee
Pa-chi-chit pi-per-tree
Oh, what a cheerful little secret!
