That Night

You and I, and that night, with its perfume and glory! -
    The scent of the locusts - the light of the moon;
And the violin weaving the waltzers a story,
    Enmeshing their feet in the weft of the tune,
    Till their shadows uncertain
    Reeled round on the curtain,
    While under the trellis we drank in the June.

Soaked through with the midnight the cedars were sleeping,
    Their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright
Crystal, moon-smitten mists, where the fountain's heart, leaping
    Forever, forever burst, full with delight;
    And its lisp on my spirit
    Fell faint as that near it
    Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night.

O your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses!
    The breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay!
And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses! -
    And the music! - in fancy I hear it to-day,
    As I sit here, confessing
    Our secret, and blessing
    My rival who found us, and waltzed you away.

James Whitcomb Riley

James Whitcomb Riley was an American writer, poet, and best-selling author. He was known as the "Hoosier Poet" and the "Children's Poet" for his dialect works and children's poetry respectively. Over his career, Riley authored approximately 1,000 poems, including "Little Orphant Annie" and "The Raggedy Man". His influence extended into the 20th century, and his works continued to be celebrated for their nostalgic and rural themes.

James Whitcomb Riley

John Alden And Percilly.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Them Old Cheery Words

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Donn Piatt Of Mac-O-Chee.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

To Hear Her Sing.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

English

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Moon-Drowned.

'Twas the height of the fete when we quitted the riot,
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We stood there enchanted. - And O the delight of
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The lisp of the lip of the ripple just under -
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June Night In Washington.

The scent of honeysuckle,
Drugging the twilight
With its sweet opiate of lovers' dreams!
The last red glow of the setting sun
On the red brick wall
Of the neighboring house,
And the scramble of red roses over it!

Slowly, slowly
The night smokes up from the city to the stars,
The faint foreshadowed stars;
The smouldering night
Breathes upward like the breath
Of a woman asleep
With dim breast rising and falling
And a smile of delicate dreams.

Softly, softly
The wind comes into the garden,
Like a lover that fears lest he waken his love,
And his hands drip with the scent of the roses
And his locks weep with the opiate odor of honeysuckle.
Sighing, sighing
As a lover that yearns for the lips of his love,
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A Dream Of Long Ago

Lying listless in the mosses
Underneath a tree that tosses
Flakes of sunshine, and embosses
    Its green shadow with the snow -
Drowsy-eyed, I sink in slumber
Born of fancies without number -
Tangled fancies that encumber
    Me with dreams of long ago.

Ripples of the river singing;
And the water-lilies swinging
Bells of Parian, and ringing
    Peals of perfume faint and fine,
While old forms and fairy faces
Leap from out their hiding-places
In the past, with glad embraces
    Fraught with kisses sweet as wine.

Willows dip their slender fingers
O'er the little fisher's stringers,
While he baits his hook and lingers
    Till the shadows gather dim;
And afar off comes a calling
Like the sounds of water falling,
With the...

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To The Serenader.

    Tinkle on, O sweet guitar,
        Let the dancing fingers
    Loiter where the low notes are
        Blended with the singer's:
    Let the midnight pour the moon's
        Mellow wine of glory
    Down upon him through the tune's
        Old romantic story!

    I am listening, my love,
        Through the cautious lattice,
    Wondering why the stars above
        All are blinking at us;
    Wondering if his eyes from there
        Catch the moonbeam's shimmer
    As it lights the robe I wear
        With a ghostly glimmer.

    Lilt thy song, and lute away
        In the wildest fashion: -
    Pour thy rippling roundelay
        O'er the heights of passion! -
    Flash it down the fretted strings
        Till thy mad ...

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Last Night - And This.

    Last night - how deep the darkness was!
    And well I knew its depths, because
    I waded it from shore to shore,
    Thinking to reach the light no more.

    She would not even touch my hand. -
    The winds rose and the cedars fanned
    The moon out, and the stars fled back
    In heaven and hid - and all was black!

    But ah!    To-night a summons came,
    Signed with a teardrop for a name, -
    For as I wondering kissed it, lo,
    A line beneath it told me so.

    And now - the moon hangs over me
    A disk of dazzling brilliancy,
    And every star-tip stabs my sight
    With splintered glitterings of light!

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A Night In June

I.

White as a lily moulded of Earth's milk
That eve the moon bloomed in a hyacinth sky;
Soft in the gleaming glens the wind went by,
Faint as a phantom clothed in unseen silk:
Bright as a naiad's leap, from shine to shade
The runnel twinkled through the shaken brier;
Above the hills one long cloud, pulsed with fire,
Flashed like a great enchantment-welded blade.
And when the western sky seemed some weird land,
And night a witching spell at whose command
One sloping star fell green from heav'n; and deep
The warm rose opened for the moth to sleep;
Then she, consenting, laid her hands in his,
And lifted up her lips for their first kiss.

II.

There where they part, the porch's steps are strewn
With wind-blown petals of the purple vine;
A...

Madison Julius Cawein