Alabama, 1915. 85 



LAST NIGHT 



LAST night the nightingale woke me, 

 Last night when all was still ; 

 It sang in the golden moonlight, 



From out the woodland hill, 

 I opened my window so gently ; 

 I looked on the dreaming dew, 

 And O; the bird, my darling, was singing, 

 Singing of you, of you. 



I think of you in the day time, 



I dream of you by night, 

 I wake — and would you were here, love, 



And tears are blinding my sight, 

 I hear a low breath in the lime tree, 



The wind is floating through, 

 And O ! the night, my darling, 



Is sighing, sighing for you. 



O ! think not I can forget you ; 



I could not though I would, 

 I see you in all around me — 



The stream, the night, the wood, 

 The flowers that slumber so gently, 



The stars above the blue, 

 Heaven itself, my darling, 



Is praying, praying for you! 

 — From the Swedish, by Theophile Marzials. 



