Where the Abana flows
A. Woodforde-Finden
Through the old city's silence,
Where the Abana flows,
O harken to the nightingale
Sing lyrics to the rose!
But through the dusk no answer
Is ever breathed or sung,
Tho' the bird's heart with pleading
The whole night long is wrung.
Yet well the lonely songster
Knows that the red rose hears.
... Ah, Love, I need no answer,
But let me see your tears!