Poem by Henry Van Dyke

Hesper

Her eyes are like the evening air,
Her voice is like a rose,
Her lips are like a lovely song,
That ripples as it flows,
And she herself is sweeter than
The sweetest thing she knows. 

A slender, haunting, twilight form
Of wonder and surprise,
She seemed a fairy or a child,
Till, deep within her eyes,
I saw the homeward-leading star
Of womanhood arise.

1. The Wind of Sorrow
2. War-Music
3. Nepenthe
4. Sea-Gulls of Manhattan
5. The Ancestral Dwelling

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