Twilight
Come to me with the earliest star,
Thou shalt not be caressed,
For passion and love shall stand afar
That I may give thee rest.
Tell of thy troubles before we sleep
Of all thy hopes and fears,
And if the telling should make thee weep
Then I will drink thy tears.
The shade shall solace thy soul that grieves,
And I shall shield thine eyes,
With glossy fans of magnolia leaves,
From starlight in the skies,
While all the cares of the angry hosts
That stalk thy soul by day
Between the trees, like wandering ghosts,
Shall softly steal away.
Where shouldst thou slumber, if not with me?
Thy haven is my breast,
I stretch myself as a couch for thee,
To lull thy limbs to rest.
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