XX

But now the sun sinks I will go Of the Whither two full streams meet and flow, Evening River. Murmuring as in wedded sleep Through evening meadows dim and deep.

There will I watch the slow trout rise At the myriad simmering flies, And listen to the water flowing With such faint sounds there is no knowing

Whether its spirit laughs or weeps Among the dreams wherein it sleeps. Sunken amid the twilight grass, I will watch the water pass,

Weaving ever dimmer tales And dimmer as the evening pales.... Till from the calm the silent lark Drops to the meadows hushed and dark,

While in the stagnant silver west, Above the tranquil poplars’ crest, There glimmers through the murky bar The slowly climbing Hesperal Star.

Thus brooding by the hazy stream, I shall hear the water dream Tinkily on, and I shall see, As my eyes close quietly.

Into a soft and long repose, The lone star like a silver rose Fade with me on the drifting stream Into the quiet night of dream.

Yet sleep I not; for lo! there wakes Of Night's From the dim water-meadow brakes Rhapsodist. A quiring: voice as if a star, Fallen to earth from midnight far

Beyond the haze of highest cloud, Bewailed her erred path aloud. It is the nightingale who sings, Fanning soft air with whirred wings,

Probing the dark with jewelled eyes. How oft, how sad, how loud she cries! And all the echoes answer her; The night airs through the close wood stir

The stars that through the eddies climb Glitter; the silver waters chime; The lily bows her dewy head.... I, too, a sudden tear have shed.

For, ah! what voice is this can make The vagrant heart within me ache? That stirs an ancient tenderness, A new need to console, love, bless

All things that‘ neath this warm night sky Rejoice and suffer, age and die? Hunger is in my heart like bliss,— I stretch my arms out and I kiss,

Gathered in sad and sweet embrace, The whole world's dark and simple face.