At the Window

Beneath the heavy curtains,
My face against the pane,
I peer into the darkness,
And scan the night in vain.
The vine o'erruns the lattice,
And lies along its roof,
So thick with leaves and clusters,
It keeps the moon aloof.
By yonder pear-tree splintered,
The ghostly radiance falls,
But fails to pierce the branches,
Or touch the sombre walls.
No moon, no starlight gleaming,
The dark encircles me;
And what is more annoying,
My neighbor cannot see.
She stands beneath her curtains,
Her face against the pane,
Nor knows that I am watching
For her to-night again!