Meeting In Summer

A tranquil bar Of rosy twilight under dusk’s first star.

A glimmering sound Of whispering waters over grassy ground.

A sun-sweet smell Of fresh-reaped hay from dewy field and dell.

A lazy breeze Jostling the ripeness from the apple-trees.

A vibrant cry, Passing, then gone, of bullbats in the sky.

And faintly now The katydid upon the shadowy bough.

And far off then The little owl within the lonely glen.

And soon, full soon, The silvery arrival of the moon.

And, to your door, The path of roses I have trod before.

And, sweetheart, you! Among the roses and the moonlit dew.