Beneath these glimmering arches Jessamine
Walked with her lover long ago; and in
The leaf-dimmed light he questioned, and she spoke;
Then on them both, supreme, love's radiance broke.
_And the moon hangs low in the elm_.
Sweet Jessamine we called her; for she shone
Like blossoms that in sun and shade have grown,
Gathering from each alike a perfect white,
Whose rich bloom breaks opaque through darkest night.
_And the moon hangs low in the elm_.
For this her sweetness Walt, her lover, sought
To win her; wooed her here, his heart o'er fraught
With fragrance of her being; and gained his plea.
So "We will wed," they said, "beneath this tree."
_And the moon hangs low in the elm._
Yet dreams of conquering greater prize for her
Roused his wild spirit with a glittering spur.
Eager for wealth, far, far from home he sailed;
And life paused;--while she watched joy vanish, veiled.
_And the moon hangs low in the elm._
Ah, better at the elm-tree's sunbrowned feet
If he had been content to let life fleet
Its wonted way!--lord of his little farm,
In zest of joys or cares unmixed with harm.
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