88
Rondeaux d'Amour
II
Against my heart—and yet I did not weep
With perfect passion! fearing only this,
One golden moment of the night to miss—
The sacred night that was not made for sleep!
The stairs of life stretch upward, dim and steep,
Midway between a grief and joy I creep—
But let us just for once have tasted bliss,
During the night.
Strained to my breast I felt your pulses leap,
And this is the remembrance I shall keep
When all the serpents of oblivion hiss—
Of two who only clung too close to kiss.
We sowed in love—in passion do we reap,
During the night.
III
He fell asleep among the passion-flowers.
I felt the darkness solemnly withdrawn.
A dewy whiteness glimmered on the lawn,
Day weeping for this dear dead night of ours.
Vague
