Page:Stories in Verse.djvu/18

 And something in its odor speaks Of dark brown eyes, and arms of snow, And rainbow smiles on sunset cheeks-- The maid I saw a month ago.

I waited for her many a day, On the dear ground where first we met; I sought her up and down the way, And all in vain I seek her yet.

Syringa, naught your odor tells, Or whispers so I cannot hear; Speak out, and tell me where she dwells, In perfume accents, loud and clear.

Shake out the music of your speech, In quavers of delicious breath; The conscious melody may teach A lover where love wandereth.

If so you speak, with smile and look, You will not wither, but endure; And in my heart's still open book, Keep your white petals ever pure.

If so you speak, upon her breast You yet may rest, nor sigh afar; But in the moonlight's silver dressed, Seem 'gainst your heaven the evening star.