I
LISTEN! the sombre foliage of the Pine,
A swart Gitana of the woodland trees,
Is answering what we may but half divine
To those soft whispers of the twilight breeze!
II
Passion and mystery murmur through the leaves,
Passion and mystery, touched by deathless pain.
Whose monotone of long, low anguish grieves
For something lost that shall not live again!
