Plestcheeff

So sultry is the hour I throw the casement wide, Fall on my knees beside it in the gloom, And cowering before me lies the balmy night, Wafted aloft the breath of lilac bloom. The nightingale her plaint from a near thicket sobs, I listen to the singer, share the woe— With a longing for my home within me waking, The home I looked on last so long ago! And the nightingales of home with their familiar song! And lilacs in my childhood gardens fair! How the languors of the night possess my being, Restoring my lost youth on perfumed air!