Frank Dempster Sherman



by Frank Dempster Sherman

Up in her balcony where
Vines through the lattices run
Spilling a scent on the air,
Setting a screen to the sun,
Fair as the morning is fair,
Sweet as a blossom is sweet,
Dwells in her rosy retreat

Often a glimpse of her face,
When the wind rustles the vine
Parting the leaves for a space,
Gladdens this window of mine;
Pink in its leafy embrace,
Pink as the morning is pink,
Sweet as a blossom I think

I who dwell over the way
Watch where Pepita is hid,
Safe from the glare of the day,
Like an eye under its lid:
Over and over I say --
Name like the song of a bird,
Melody shut in a word, --

Look where the little leaves stir!
Look, the green curtains are drawn!
There in a blossomy blur
Breaks a diminutive dawn --
Dawn and the pink face of her!
Name like a lisp of the south,
Fit for a rose's small mouth, --


Lyrics For A Lute
Copyright 1890
Boston and New York, Houghton, Mifflin, and Company