Читать книгу The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe - Various - Страница 50

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'Twas late, and the gay company was gone,

And light lay soft on the deserted room

From alabaster vases, and a scent

Of orange-leaves, and sweet verbena came

Through the uushutter'd window on the air,

And the rich pictures with their dark old tints

Hung like a twilight landscape, and all things

Seem'd hush'd into a slumber. Isabel,

The dark-eyed, spiritual Isabel

Was leaning on her harp, and I had stay'd

To whisper what I could not when the crowd

Hung on her look like worshipers. I knelt,

And with the fervor of a lip unused

To the cool breath of reason, told my love.

There was no answer, and I took the hand

That rested on the strings, and press'd a kiss

Upon it unforbidden—and again

Besought her, that this silent evidence

That I was not indifferent to her heart,

Might have the seal of one sweet syllable.

I kiss'd the small white fingers as I spoke,

And she withdrew them gently, and upraised

Her forehead from its resting-place, and look'd

Earnestly on me—SHE HAD BEEN ASLEEP!