Sara Teasedale: To a Castilian Song

To a Castilian Song

We held the book together timidly,    Whose antique music in an alien tongue    Once rose among the dew-drenched vines that hung Beneath a high Castilian balcony. I felt the lute strings' ancient ecstasy,    And while he read, my love-filled heart was stung,    And throbbed, as where an ardent bird has clung The branches tremble on a blossomed tree. Oh lady for whose sake the song was made, Laid long ago in some still cypress shade,    Divided from the man who longed for thee,       Here in a land whose name he never heard,       His song brought love as April brings the bird,    And not a breath divides my love from me!