After The Rain
 
she dreamed of simple things not beyond her means
to frolic amidst the dust of tranquility
a tug at her heart would light the inner spark of what she neded to know
 
She leaned upon her balcony, in the darkness,
Folding her hands beneath her chin;
And watched the lamps begin
Here and there to pierce like eyes the darkness,--
From windows, luminous rooms,
And from the damp dark street
Between the moving branches, and the leaves with rain still sweet.
It was strange: the leaves thus seen,
With the lamplight's cold bright glare thrown up among them,--
The restless maple leaves,
Twinkling their myriad shadows beneath the eaves,--
Were lovelier, almost, than with sunlight on them,
So bright they were with young translucent green;
Were lovelier, almost, than with moonlight... |