Then and Now
Beneath her window in the fragrant nightI half forget how truant years have flownSince I looked up to see her chamber-light,Or catch, perchance, her slender shadow thrownUpon the casement; but the nodding leavesSweep lazily across the unlit pane,And to and fro beneath the shadowy eaves,Like restless birds, the breath of coming rainCreeps, lilac-laden, up the village streetWhen all is still, as if the very treesWere listening for the coming of her feetThat come no more; yet, lest I weep, the breezeSings some forgotten song of those old yearsUntil my heart grows far too glad for tears.