When The Stars Begin To Woo

                                          I.

Perhaps you do not miss me in the stilly twilight hour,

When all Nature is romantic and the stars begin to woo;

Perhaps you do not miss love’s sweet magnetic power,

Perhaps you do not, darling, but I somehow think you do.

                                          II.

Perhaps you do not miss me in the balmy woodland deep,

Where the dulcet thrushes thrilled us many happy hours through;

Perhaps you do not see me when you close your eyes in sleep,

Perhaps you do not, darling, but I’m always seeing you.

                                          III.

Perhaps you have forgotten how we wandered o’er the lea,

And plucked the brightest flowers in profusion as they grew;

Perhaps you have forgotten all those hours of love’s degree,

Perhaps you have, dear sweetheart, but I do not think it true.

                                          IV.

But if you’ve learned to miss me, pray send me just a line,

And I’ll fly back to my old home and to you;

And our ray of love, my darling, once more will brightly shine,

When all nature is romantic and the stars begin to woo.

Sept. 1, ‘92
Pub. in
Ct. Valley
   Ad.