Page:Hand in hand; (IA handinhand00kipl).pdf/93



N 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!

Y 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.