Page:The Yellow Book - 07.djvu/365



By Theo Marzials

then it seem'd I was a bird That dipt along the silent street. In that strange midnight nothing stir'd,
 * And all was moonlight, still and sweet.

By lofty vane and roof and loft,
 * Aloof, aloft, where shadows hung,

Down ghostly ways that wafted soft,
 * Warm echoes where I sank and sung;

And lower yet by flower-set sill,
 * And close against her window-bars,

And still the moonlight flowed, and still,
 * The still dew lit the jessamine stars;

And oh! I beat against the pane,
 * And oh! I sang so sweet, so clear,—

I heard her wake, and pause again,
 * Then nearer, nearer—killing near;

And back she flung the window-rod,
 * The moonlight swept in, like a stream;

She drew me to her neck—Oh! God,
 * 'Twas then I knew it was a dream!