Page:The Happy Marriage and Other Poems.pdf/48



leans against the window-sill: The dusk has drizzled down to rose. Delicious damps and odors fill The musings of his thoughtful nose.

The soft wind slides seductive touch Along the shoulders of the oak. My dear, I love you, dear, so much— He cannot think of whom he spoke.

The white of her Colonial Showed patterns of a tranquil wall Through lattices of apple trees, And softly her serenities