Classic Poem

By day my timid passions stand
—Like begging children at your gate,
Each with a mute, appealing hand
—To ask a dole of Fate;
But when night comes, released from doubt,
—Like merry minstrels they appear,
The stars ring out their hopeful shout,
—Beloved, can you hear?

They dare not sing to you by day
—Their all-desirous song, or take
The world with their adventurous lay
—For your enchanted sake.
But when the night-wind wakes and thrills
—The shadows that the night unbars,
Their music fills the dreamy hills,
—And folds the friendly stars.

Beloved, can you hear? They sing
—Words that no mortal lips can sound;
Love through the world has taken wing,
—My passions are unbound.
And now, and now, my lips, my eyes,
—Are stricken dumb with hope and fear,
It is my burning soul that cries,
—Beloved, can you hear?