Serenade.

I would not have you wake for me,
Fair lady, though I love you!
And though the night is warm, and all
The stars are out above you;
And though the dew's so light it could
Not hurt your little feet,
And nightingales in yonder wood
Are singing passing sweet.

Yet may my plaintive strain unite
And mingle with your dreaming,
And through the visions of the night
Just interweave my seeming.
Yet no! sleep on with fancy free
In that untroubled breast;
No song of mine, no thought of me,
Deserves to break your rest!

Juliana Horatia Ewing

Juliana Horatia Ewing was an English writer of children's stories, known for her pioneering work in the genre. Born on August 3, 1841, she was the daughter of Margaret Gatty, herself a noted British writer. Juliana's works were marked by their imaginative quality and their combination of adventure and moral lessons, making significant contributions to children's literature of the Victorian era. Her acclaimed works include 'Jackanapes,' 'Daddy Darwin's Dovecot,' and 'The Story of a Short Life.' She passed away on May 13, 1885.

Juliana Horatia Ewing

Anemones.

Juliana Horatia Ewing, Simple Poetry

Canada Home.

Juliana Horatia Ewing, Simple Poetry

Maiden With The Gipsy Look.

Juliana Horatia Ewing, Simple Poetry

Fancy Free.

Juliana Horatia Ewing, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Serenade.

Ah, sweet, thou little knowest how
I wake and passionate watches keep;
And yet while I address thee now,
Methinks thou smilest in thy sleep.
'Tis sweet enough to make me weep,
That tender thought of love and thee,
That while the world is hush'd so deep,
Thy soul's perhaps awake to me!

Sleep on, sleep on, sweet bride of sleep!
With golden visions of thy dower,
While I this midnight vigil keep,
And bless thee in thy silent bower;
To me 'tis sweeter than the power
Of sleep, and fairy dreams unfurl'd,
That I alone, at this still hour,
In patient love outwatch the world.

Thomas Hood

Serenade.

The day is fading from the sky,
    And softly shines the Star of Even,
As watching with a lover's eye
    The rest of Earth the peace of Heaven;
The dew is rising cool and sweet,
    And, zephyr-rock'd, the flowers are closing,
The Night steals on with noiseless feet,
    Oh! gentle be my love's reposing.

The streamlet, as it flows along,
    Sounds like a voice 'mid childhood's slumbers;
And from the brake the Queen of Song
    Pours forth her softest, clearest numbers;
And ever through the stirless leaves
    The summer moon is brightly streaming,
Light fancies on the sward it weaves,--
    As radiant be my lady's dreaming.

The silent hours move swiftly on,
    With many a blessed vision laden,
That all the night has softly shone
...

Walter R. Cassels

The Serenade.

Innocent dreams be thine! The silver night
Is a fit curtain for thy lovely sleep.
The stars keep watch above thee, and the moon
Sits like a brooding spirit up in Heaven,
Ruling the night's deep influences, and life
Hath a hushed pulse, and the suspended leaves
Sleep with their whisperings as if the dew
Were a soft finger on the lip of sound.
Innocent dreams be thine! thy heart sends up
Its thoughts of purity like pearly bells
Rising in crystal fountains, and the sin
That thou hast seen by day, will, like a shade,
Pass from thy memory, as if the pure
Had an unconscious ministry by night.

Midnight - and now for music! Would I were
A sound that I might steal upon thy dreams,
And, like the breathing of my flute, distil
Sweetly upon thy senses. Softly, b...

Nathaniel Parker Willis

Serenade.

("Quand tu chantes.")


When the voice of thy lute at the eve
        Charmeth the ear,
In the hour of enchantment believe
        What I murmur near.
That the tune can the Age of Gold
        With its magic restore.
Play on, play on, my fair one,
        Play on for evermore.

When thy laugh like the song of the dawn
        Riseth so gay
That the shadows of Night are withdrawn
        And melt away,
I remember my years of care
        And misgiving no more.
Laugh on, laugh on, my fair one,
        Laugh on for evermore.

When thy sleep like the moonlight above
        Lulling the sea,
Doth enwind thee in visions of love,
        Perchance, of me!
I can watch so in dream that enthralled me,
        Neve...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Serenade

So sweet the hour, so calm the time,
I feel it more than half a crime,
When Nature sleeps and stars are mute,
To mar the silence ev'n with lute.
At rest on ocean's brilliant dyes
An image of Elysium lies:
Seven Pleiades entranced in Heaven,
Form in the deep another seven:
Endymion nodding from above
Sees in the sea a second love.
Within the valleys dim and brown,
And on the spectral mountain's crown,
The wearied light is dying down,
And earth, and stars, and sea, and sky
Are redolent of sleep, as I
Am redolent of thee and thine
Enthralling love, my Adeline.
But list, O list, so soft and low
Thy lover's voice tonight shall flow,
That, scarce awake, thy soul shall deem
My words the music of a dream.
Thus, while no single sound too rude

Edgar Allan Poe

The Serenade

The midnight is not more bewildering
To her drowsed eyes, than to her ears, the sound
Of dim, sweet singing voices, interwound
With purl of flute and subtle twang of string,
Strained through the lattice, where the roses cling
And, with their fragrance, waft the notes around
Her haunted senses. Thirsting beyond bound
Of her slow-yielding dreams, the lilt and swing
Of the mysterious delirious tune,
She drains like some strange opiate, with awed eyes
Upraised against her casement, where aswoon,
The stars fail from her sight, and up the skies
Of alien azure rolls the full round moon
Like some vast bubble blown of summer noon.

James Whitcomb Riley