Only the little streamlet flows
Beneath the hemlocks, beneath the moon;
Hearing nothing as it goes,
Save its own enchanted tune.
And silent, silent, on moss and stone.
Sleeps the whole world's bitter wrong;
While the shadow of love, lying alone,
Listens to the streamlet's song.
- NIGHT
ALONE again! And the silence flows
Round the windows of this place.
The night is starless and heavy and close,
Rain-scented like a drooping rose;
And on the night floats your face.
It does not smile, it does not frown.
It does not laugh, it does not weep;
It only rocks itself up and down.
Floating, as if on the waves of sleep.
Like a drooping rose is your dreamy face
With the starless night about it furled;
And infinite silence fills the place.
And there is nothing else in the world.
