Serenade

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By the burnished laurel line
  Glimmering flows the singing stream;
  Oily eddies crease and shine
  O'er white pebbles, white as cream.

  Richest roses bud or die
  All about the splendid park;
  Fountains glass a wily eye
  Where the fawns browse in the dark.

  Amber-belted through the night
  Floats the alabaster moon,
  Stooping o'er th' acacia white
  Where my mandolin I tune.

  By the twinkling mere I sing
  Where lake lilies stretch pale eyes,
  And a bulbul there doth fling
  Music at the moon who flies.

  With a broken syrinx there,
  From enameled beds of buds,
  Rises Pan in hoof and hair--
  Moonlight his dim sculpture floods.

  The pale jessamines have felt
  The large passion of her gaze;
  See! they part--their glories melt
  Round her in a starry haze.

© Madison Julius Cawein