The Serenade.

A poem by George W. Doneghy


The winds were hushed, and thin and high
The fleecy clouds were drifting,
And through them as she sailed the sky
The moon's soft light was sifting.


Beneath her pale and tender ray,
Its silvery kiss imprinting,
All dew-bedecked each flower and spray
Like myriad jewels glinting.


Across the lawn there floats the sound
Of music sweet--entrancing--
'Neath a latticed casement, ivy-bound,
Where love-lit eyes were glancing.


The flute and harp and mandolin
There dulcet notes were blending,
And strains divine from a violin
In harmony ascending.


Enraptured by the magic spell,
I lingering stood, and listening,
It seemed to me that I could tell
What love to her was whispering.


I looked above and chanced to see
The man in the moon was scowling,
For they had struck up "Sweet Marie,"
And the old watch-dog was howling!

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