Above the moist earth, tremulous and bright,
The stars creep forth—stars that I cannot see;
And to my cell steals, oh, so tenderly
The dewy fragrance of a summer night!
All wan and wistful, somewhere out of sight,
Stalking o'er landscapes wide and dark and free,
My friend, the moon, looks everywhere for me,
Splashing the paths I loved with silver light.
Oh loveliness! why do you torture so
With such keen beauty till the day appears?
Why touch to life things buried long ago,
Whose aching cries trouble the heart to tears;
Ghostly—like wind tossed sea gulls calling low
Out of the poignant vistas of the years?