A Quiet Tap
A quiet tap on the door, a gentle laughter, a sly kiss, a gentle pressing of the hand. A little window, a young tree, a soft couch of grass which nestles close to the wall.
A dark-blue sky with pale golden stars. In the stillness of the night the singing of a cricket. A distant murmur, that comes floating from the lake. A gentle breeze, that glides over the grass.
The edge of the horizon, that begins to pale; a white veil, that enwraps the lane. A last long kiss, a low tap on the shutter and after—distant steps, that resound mysteriously.
A dark-blue sky with pale golden stars. In the stillness of the night the singing of a cricket. A distant murmur, that comes floating from the lake. A gentle breeze, that glides over the grass.
The edge of the horizon, that begins to pale; a white veil, that enwraps the lane. A last long kiss, a low tap on the shutter and after—distant steps, that resound mysteriously.
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