us night of London,
In the miraculous April weather.

Roaming together under the gaslight,
Day's work over,
How the Spring calls to us, here in the city,
Calls to the heart from the heart of a lover!

Cool the wind blows, fresh in our facet,
Cleansing, entrancing,
After the heat and the fumes and the footlights,
Where you dance and I watch your dancing.

Good it is to be here together,
Good to be roaming;
Even in London, even at midnight,
Lover-like in a lover's gloaming.

You the dancer and I the dreamer,
Children together,
Wandering lost in the night of London,
In the miraculous April weather.

DURING MUSIC.

THE music had the heat of blood,
A passion that no words can reach;
We sat together, and understood
Our own heart's speech.

We had no need of word or sign,
The music spoke for us, and said
All that her eyes could read in mine
Or mine in hers had read.

ON THE BRIDGE.

MIDNIGHT falls across hollow gulfs of
night
As a stone that falls in a sounding well;
Under us the Seine flows through dark and light,
While the beat of time--hark!--is audible.

Lights on bank and bridge glitter gold and red,
Lights upon the stream glitter red and white;
Under us the night, and the night overhead.
We together, we alone together in the night.

"I DREAM OF HER."

I DREAM of her the whole night long,
The pillows with my tears are wet.
I wake, I seek amid the throng
The courage to forget.

Yet still, as night comes round, I dread,
With unavailing fears,
The dawn that finds, beneath my head,
The pillows wet with tears.

TEARS.

O HANDS that I have held in mine,
That knew my kisses and my tears,
Hands that in other years
Have poured my balm, have poured my wine;

Women, once loved, and always mine,
I call to you across the years,
I bring a gift of tears,
I bring my tears to you as wine.

THE LAST EXIT.

OUR love was all arrayed in pleasantness,
A tender little love that sighed and smiled
At little happy nothings, like a child,
A dainty little love in fancy dress.

But now the love that once was half in play
Has come to be this grave and piteous thing.
Why did you leave me all this suffering
For all your memory when you went away?

You might have played the play out, O my friend,
Closing upon a kiss our comedy.
Or is