Look To Her Window

Beneath her window in the fragrant night

I half forget how truant years have flown

Since I looked up to see her chamber-light,

Or catch, perchance, her slender shadow thrown

Upon the casement; but the nodding leaves

Sweep lazily across the unlit pane,

And to and fro beneath the shadowy eaves,

Like restless birds, the breath of coming rain

Creeps, lilac-laden, up the village street

When all is still, as if the very trees

Were listening for the coming of her feet

That come no more; yet, lest I weep, the breeze

Sings some forgotten song of those old years

Until my heart grows far too glad for tears.