Serenade

O roses, clustering on the sunny wall

In fragrant groups of white and red together,

Bend down, bend down your branches, one and all,

Beneath the fair June sky and glowing weather;

And say to her, I send her

A message tender.

And thou, convolvulus, upon the gate,

With pale white bells and trails of light leaves swinging,

Tell her my love for her is strong as fate,

For ever true and like thy tendrils clinging;

And kiss her, soft and shy,

As she goes by.

O jessamine, in wreaths of scented stars

Across the balconies and stonework meeting,

Climb up and enter at her window-bars

And bear among your buds my loving greeting;

Then whisper, sweet and slow,

‘He waits below.’