Last Night

From the Swedish by Théophile Julius Henry Marzials LAST night the nightingale waked me, Last night when all was still; It sang in the golden moonlight From out the woodland hill. I opened the window gently, And all was dreamy dew— And oh! the bird, my darling, Was singing, singing of you! I think of you in the day-time; I dream of you by night— I wake—would you were near me, And hot tears blind my sight. I hear a sigh in the lime-tree, The wind is floating through, And oh! the night, my darling, Is longing, longing for you. Nor think 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 sleep so gently, The stars above the blue, Oh! heaven itself, my darling, Is praying, praying for you.