DISTANT
 II

Amid the dreaminess of even
The doleful song expires.
Thy touch upon the ivory keys
A dream of gold inspires.

I ponder: «Thy lips never shall
Be mine», and o'er the deeps
Serene of sadness in my soul
Careless abandon sweeps.

The wind obscure scatters the leaves,
And over the sleeping fields
Autumn sheds in silence deep
That spell of wonder wields.