Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Under Two WindowsMrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer
T
Though my feet have worn the patient grass at the gate of thy dwelling-place.
No leaflet stirred of the leaves that climb to garland thy window ledge.
If only the low moon’s light had glanced on a moving casement pane.
And the curtain shook with its gentle breath, white as young lilies are;
(I longed as the moon and the vine-leaves longed!) or to set the casement wide.
And thrice my heart leaped up at the sound I thought thou hadst surely heard.
Shall I watch from afar and silently, as under the moon, for thy sake?
Thy hand, thy face, in the window niche, but thy kiss at the open door!
My darling, come!—The wings of the dark have wafted the sunset away,
And there’s room for much in a summer night, but no room for delay.
From every hollow in the green hills that holds a pool in its cup.
The young trees yearn on the breast of the wind that sighs of love as it goes.
With Vega high in the midmost place, Altair not far aside.
Mist-white, moth-like, a spirit awake in the dark of forest dreams.
That sendeth a zephyr sweet with thyme to seek for thy sweeter mouth.
Shall the reeds that sing by the wind-brushed pool say nothing of thee and me?
There is room for much in a summer night, but no room for delay!