Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By GeorgeHortom1453 A Night in Lesbos
T
The Pleiades are flown,
Midnight is creeping nigh,
And I am still alone.
Are all these weary hours!
I hate the night-bird’s song
Among the Lesbian flowers.
That comes to kiss my hair
From oleander trees
And waters cool and fair.
The winds should rave and moan.
Ah! why is Nature mild
When I am here alone?
Rode o’er the laughing sea,
My heart was glad, for, “for, “Soon,”
I said, “he comes to me.”
Slid swiftly ’neath the wave,
I sighed, “He is not here.
Be brave, my heart, be brave!”
Of doubts and hopings vain,
I watched the white stars snow
On you Ægean plain.
Alcyone, and all
Those far and happy flames
On which we mortals call.
“My soul shall swim in bliss;”
And then, “Ere that is fled
My lips shall feel his kiss.”
The Pleiades are flown;
’T is midnight in my soul,
And I am here alone!