Lady! in this night of June Fair like thee and holy, Art thou gazing at the moon That is rising slowly? I am gazing on her now: Something tells me, so art thou. Night hath been when thou and I Side by side were sitting, Watching o'er the moonlit sky Fleecy cloudlets flitting. Close our hands were linkèd then; When will they be linked again? What to me the starlight still, Or the moonbeams' splendour, If I do not feel the thrill Of thy fingers slender? Summer nights in vain are clear, If thy footstep be not near. Roses slumbering in their sheaths O'er my threshold clamber, And the honeysuckle wreathes Its translucent amber Round the gables of my home: How is it thou dost not come? If thou camest, rose on rose From its sleep would waken; From each flower and leaf that blows Spices would be shaken; Floating down from star and tree, Dreamy perfumes welcome thee. I would lead thee where the leaves In the moon-rays glisten; And, where shadows fall in sheaves, We would lean and listen For the song of that sweet bird That in April nights is heard. And when weary lids would close, And thy head was drooping, Then, like dew that steeps the rose, O'er thy languor stooping, I would, till I woke a sigh, Kiss thy sweet lips silently. I would give thee all I own, All thou hast would borrow; I from thee would keep alone Fear and doubt and sorrow. All of tender that is mine, Should most tenderly be thine. Moonlight! into other skies, I beseech thee wander. Cruel, thus to mock mine eyes, Idle, thus to squander Love's own light on this dark spot;- For my lady cometh not!