Don't cast away
This handful passion of a bygone day,
Which flows like running water soft and light
Beneath the cool and tranquil fountain,
At dead of night,
In pine-clad mountain,
As vague as sights, but you
Should e'er be true.
The moon is still so bright;
Beyond the hills the lamp sheds the same light,
The sky besprinkled with star upon star,
But I do not know where you are.
You hang above like dreams.
You ask the dark night to give back you word,
But its echo is heard
And bruied though unseen
Deep, deep in the ravine.