Читать книгу Poems - Howells William Dean - Страница 9

She hung the cage at the window:

“If he goes by,” she said,

“He will hear my robin singing,

And when he lifts his head,

I shall be sitting here to sew,

And he will bow to me, I know.”

The robin sang a love-sweet song,

The young man raised his head;

The maiden turned away and blushed:

“I am a fool!” she said,

And went on broidering in silk

A pink-eyed rabbit, white as milk.

The young man loitered slowly

By the house three times that day;

She took her bird from the window:

“He need not look this way.”

She sat at her piano long,

And sighed, and played a death-sad song.

But when the day was done, she said,

“I wish that he would come!

Remember, Mary, if he calls

To-night–I’m not at home.”

So when he rang, she went–the elf!–

She went and let him in herself.

They sang full long together

Their songs love-sweet, death-sad;

The robin woke from his slumber,

And rang out, clear and glad.

“Now go!” she coldly said; “’tis late;”

And followed him–to latch the gate.

He took the rosebud from her hair,

While, “You shall not!” she said;

He closed her hand within his own,

And, while her tongue forbade,

Her will was darkened in the eclipse

Of blinding love upon his lips.