Her Window

UT of her window, that morn of grace,She leaned her radiant, beautiful face,—The sun, ashamed, went into a cloud;But, glad of the dawning, the birds sang loud.

A laggard went up the garden walk,And lingered to hear the murmuring talkOf flower and-bee and every comerThat fluttered along in front of the summer.

He quaffed the wine of the morning air,And felt with a thrill that the day was fair,—Then he raised his eyes to her window's height,—"Ah, me," he said, "but the sun is bright!"