Page:Poems Jones.djvu/172

THE EVENING STAR.

EAN from the lattice, lady bright;
 Trifle no more with the pensive guitar
For the sun in an ebbing ocean of light
 Is anchored, to wait for the evening star.

And yonder the palace-windows blaze:
 Such radiant gold from the west they win,
That you say, in a sort of pretty amaze,
 "Surely, there must be a sun within!"

Over your head a rose-vine clings,
 Deftly the long stems climb and lace;
And a full, red bud in the west wind swings,
 Brushing the rose of your beautiful face.

Lean from the lattice, lady sweet;
 The wind is blowing the bud apart;
And one is coming adown the street,
 To open to you his princely heart.

But your lips are touched by a scornful smile:
 "What is he, but a boy?" you say;