At Her Window

BEATING Heart! we come again
  Where my Love reposes;
This is Mabel’s window-pane;
  These are Mabel’s roses.

Is she nested? Does she kneel
  In the twilight stilly,
Lily clad from throat to heel,
  She, my virgin Lily?

Soon the wan, the wistful stars,
  Fading, will forsake her;
Elves of light, on beamy bars,
  Whisper then, and wake her.

Let this friendly pebble plead
  At her flowery grating;
If she hear me will she heed?
  Mabel, I am waiting.

Mabel will be deck’d anon,
  Zoned in bride’s apparel;
Happy zone! O hark to yon
  Passion-shaken carol!

Sing thy song, thou tranced thrush,
  Pipe thy best, thy clearest;—
Hush, her lattice moves, O hush—
  Dearest Mabel!—dearest…

Poem by: Frederick Locker-Lampson
(1821-1895)

Painting: Woman At Her Window
By Ágost Elek Canzi,
Austro-Hungarian painter
(1808-1866)
Oil on canvas 19,29 x 14,57 inches
Via: WikiMedia