The Serenade

Under my casement, as I pray, My lover sings my cares away With many a half-forgotten lay.

He leans against the linden-tree, And sings old songs of Arcady That he knows well are loved by me.

Half through the night the sweet strains float Like wind-blown rose-leaves, note by note, Over the great wall and the moat,

Up to my window, till they teem Into my soul, and almost seem To be there even when I dream.

And his heart trembling beats with bliss If I but throw him one small kiss Just as I now throw this, and this