Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/124

 Oh, tell her, thou murmuring river, As past her your light wavelets roll, How steadfast that image for ever Shines pure in pure depths of my soul.

The wandering airs float over the lawn, And linger and whisper in at our bower; (They babble, babble all they know:) The delicate secrets they have drawn From bird and meadow and tree and flower; (Gossiping softly, whispering low.)

Some linden stretches itself to the height, Then rustles back to its dream of the day; (They babble, babble all they know:) Some bird would trill out its love-delight, But the honey melts in its throat away; (Gossiping softly, whispering low.)

Some flower seduced by the treacherous calm Breathes all its soul in a fragrant sigh; (They babble, babble all they know:) Some blossom weeps a tear of balm For the lost caress of a butterfly; (Gossiping softly, whispering low.)