UNDER THE PALMS 
 
The woodland hollows know us, bird-enchanted, 
Likewise the spaces of the ghostly sea, 
The lake’s abundant lilies, the pale slanted 
Moonlight on flowers, the wind’s low minstrelsy ; 
For all the tropic greenery is haunted 
By you and me. . . . . . . . 
 
The tall palms bend and catch love’s tender ditty 
To learn a sweeter song to lure their mate. 
The soft wind sighs in amorous self-pity, 
Having no love wherein to laugh elate, 
And turns to the cold harbour and the city, 
Wailing its fate. . . . . . . . 
 
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