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Poem	Ah, Nora, my Nora, the light fades away, While Night like a spirit steals up o'er the hills; The thrush from his tree where he chanted all day, No longer his music in ecstasy trills. Then, Nora, be near me; thy presence doth cheer me, Thine eye hath a gleam that is truer than gold. I cannot but love thee; so do not reprove me, [Pg 63]If the strength of my passion should make me too bold. Nora, pride of my heart— Rosy cheeks, cherry lips, sparkling with glee,— Wake from thy slumbers, wherever thou art; Wake from thy slumbers to me. Ah, Nora, my Nora, there 's love in the air,— It stirs in the numbers that thrill in my brain; Oh, sweet, sweet is love with its mingling of care, Though joy travels only a step before pain. Be roused from thy slumbers and list to my numbers; My heart is poured out in this song unto thee. Oh, be thou not cruel, thou treasure, thou jewel; Turn thine ear to my pleading and hearken to me.
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