At Evening - A poem by Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos

Incompletion

Low curving beach around a turquoise sea,
A quarter moon, with one attendant star,
White villas fast asleep in bougainvillea bowers,
A chime of bells from some hill-chapel far.
Ah, dark eyes, starlit 'neath their brows,
That gaze upon the opal streaked sea!
Ah, red lips, like the petals of a flower,
So near and yet not there for me!
The nightingale, that's singing 'neath the palms,
Safe-hid beneath the garden's heavy shade,
May chant of love, thruout the moonlit hours,
And woo his little mate all unafraid.
That silent cypress pointing to a star
Holds up a warning finger as my hand
Seeks yours and soft the petals of the rose you wear
Fall, fluttering on the milk-white sand.
And so we sigh and sighing turn away
To walk, again across the sandy dune;
No words have we yet found to say,
But gaze and gaze upon the water and the moon.

^__Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos