New York Nocturnes, and Other Poems — Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle, II

II

Oh, flower of the honeysuckle, Tell me how often the long night through She turns in her dream to the open window, She turns in her dream to you.

Oh, flower of the honeysuckle, Tell me how tenderly out of the dew You breathe her a dream of that night of wonder When life was fashioned anew.

Oh, flower of the honeysuckle, Tell me how long ere, the sweet night through, She will turn not to you but to me in the darkness, And dream and desire come true.

My Garden I have a garden in the city’s grime Where secretly my heart keeps summer time;

Where blow such airs of rapture on my eyes As those blest dreamers know in Paradise,