Collected Poems of John Holmes
Holmes, John A., Jr.
The lover serenades
The lover serenades
(A poetic fantasy)
He stands in darkness
In the trees and as he waits
Is thinking: "The moon's a golden circle o'er the hill,
And 'neath the trees I stand a tremble
At my daring, from the darkness comes a rill
Of Music: Nightbirds sing and echo sweet
The music rising in me.
Presently I'll sing.
Then in faint glow of the window
There will be a lovely head. Stars will swing
Down low to hear my love song in the night';
In the tower
Sits an owl
Fat and sleepy
Wise old fowl, calling, whoo, whoo, whoo.
THe lover waits
And tunes the strings.
Clears his throat and
Sweetly sings: "Far away the night birds call
The night birds call and cry
A slow wind rustles in the trees,
The moon is sailing high.
O maiden fair, I love but you.
Let me prove my love
I love you with a passion true
And bright as mon above.
Hear my song, O beauteous maid
Let music do its part.
Hear my voice, my voice, dear heart,
Hear my song of love."
(in waltz time, passionately)
"Hear me. dear one, waiting, listening
Hear the tender song I softly sing.
Lend your ear and let me tell you.
Tell you of the love that I could bring.
Oh, high up in your tower above the trees
Hear my voice borne up there on the breeze.
Let me tell the story ever new.
Tell you my bursting heart is singing,
How the air with its ringing,
Call and call it softly,
...........I love you."
Calls the owl
Sleepy fowl, Whoo whoo, whoo....
From the stony tower
Slow and low and light
Comes her tender voice,
Sil'very in the night
"Sweet it is to be a maid
To be a amid, and loved,
To have a lover come at night
And sing a serenade."
More romance 'neath the castle wall?
So much I've seen in my long life
I wonder that there's any love at all
Yet left for mad young men to sing.
He twitters like a cherubim.
I'll have to stop and speak to him.
O, singer of an old, old, tale,
Hush thee, now, begone.
Thy song is sweet,
Thy voice is young
You sing a love that's strong.
But when I've gone
And darkening night
Falls o'er your place of song,
You'll find the glamour of my light
Has much to do with it.
I8m sinking, now, I'm sinking fast.
Hush thee, youth, begone."
The lover sees the waning of the moon
Feels the chill before the coming of the day,
Hears the chill before the coming of the day,
Hears the hollow hooting of the owl,
And shivers as his singing dies away,
"Let me tell a story ever new,
Tell you how my bursting heart in singing
Tell you how the air with it is ringing,
Call and call it softly
Fainter, fainter grows the light,
Fainter grows the voice.
Gone the singer and the moon,
Gone into the night.
The Owl - Whoo, Whoo, Whoooo..........