49
The moon is shining brightly, O the silver moon so white.
But to me the earth is gloomy since you are not here tonight.
I wonder if in Paradise, where all the angels are,
You can look down upon this earth and see me from afar?
My soul, my soul is fainting with a longing for the time
When I'll be call'd from this green earth to yonder Heav'nly clime.
When your sweet spirit mine can moot, never again to part,
In Paradise's garden, hand in hand and heart to heart.
To Celia.
This kindness, had it come when first I thought
To win your heart's regard and true esteem,
Would not, as now, since 'tis no longer sought,
Have seem'd the ling'ring phantom of a dream.
For all your glance, and smile, and touch, betray,
I yearn'd in vain, in other hopeless times;
Had counted that dear treasure, which, today,
You give from your affection's ardent climes.
But now this new and sudden sympathy,
This tardy warmth, that fellows old neglect,
Leave me unmov'd, who once so willingly
Had welcomed love, to shelter and protect;--
Love in such guise of beauty and delight,
As you, perhaps, had taught my heart to know;
Such sweetness and such tenderness and might,
As only soul to soul can ever show!
And since that dream has died, my heart must mourn
To know that yours, too late, has learn'd to care;
For, long ago, the rue and wounding thorn
Of that old love, were plucked for one more fair!
Rheinhart Kleiner.
The Conservative
Edited by H.P. Lovecraft in the Interests of the United Amateur Press Association. Office of Publication, 598 Angell St., Providence, R.I., U.S.A. For circulation amongst Lovers of Literature.
The Lincoln Press
