AT THE TRYST.
Reading edition
The evening stars are shining Amid the gloom of air, Like gold and jewels twining Among thy golden hair. They guard the dawn’s shut portal And count the moments fleet,— O maiden, we are mortal, Why hasten not thy feet? The moonlight and the shadows Are wooing by the stream, And far across the meadows Thy windows brightly gleam. My eager heart is beating Beneath the trysting tree, The evening hours are fleeting, Why com’st thou not to me?