Tryst
A whisper, a gentle sigh,
Trills of the nightingale;
The silver flash of the brook,
Asleep in the sleepy vale.
The shadows and shine of night—
Shadows in endless race;
The sweep of a magical change
Over a sweet young face.
The blush of a rose in the mist,
An amber gleam on the lawn;
A rush of kisses and tears—
And oh, “the Dawn! the Dawn!”