On silver nights I cannot sleep;—
The ancient moon from far above,
Bids me arise, and run and keep
A rendezvous with one I love.
And in my heart a little song
Swings to and fro its clear refrain,
While down the stairs I haste along
As though the past were mine again.
Then is my spirit so beguiled
By all the night's white witchery,
That I am kin to all things wild,
And part of all things that are free!—
Then he comes back,— who long ago
Left these green paths his steps had trod;
Yes — he comes back,— I know!— I know!—
Light-footed from the fields of God.
So through the garden and the lane,
And where the lovely grass is deep,
We two go walking once again,—
On silver nights, that banish sleep.