O BROODING NIGHT, Whose billowy breast is clad In shining silks of violet and blue, To make one lover this soft evening glad Pull closer round thee clouds of purple hue.
O brooding Night, I go to meet my Love : Plume the pale twilight with thy darkness deep : Spread peace so quiet that yon woodland dove Gives over doodling, sunken in warm sleep.
And now my voluble heart tells She is nigh, Lean down, 0 gentle Night, and draw us both Into thy gloomy bosom with low sigh Of whispering wind, lest silence make her loth.
But so she read my eyes, grant one more boon—
Light of Love's star, and the young glimmering moon.
R. L. Mkosoz.