The Night-Wind

Arthur Butterworth

In summer's mellow midnight

A cloudless moon shone through

The open parlour window

And rose trees wet with dew

I sat in silent musing

The soft wind waved my hair

I told me heaven was glorious

And sleeping earth was fair

I needed not its breathing

To bring such thoughts to me

But still it whispered lowly

How dark the woods will be

The thick leaves in my murmur

Are rustling like a dream

And all their myriad voices

Instinct with spirit seem

I said go gently singer

Thy wooing voice is kind

But do not think its music

Has power to reach my mind

Play with the scented flower

The young tree's subtle bough

And leave my human feelings

In their own course to flow

The wanderer would not leave me

Its kiss grew warmer still

Oh come it sighed so sweetly

I'll win thee 'gainst thy will

Have we not been from childhood friends?

Have I not loved thee long?

As long as though has't loved the night

Whose silence wakes my song

And when thy heart is laid at rest

Beneath the church yard stone

I shall have time no more to mourn

And thou to be alone