NOW is the hour when, swinging in the breeze, Each flower, like a censer, sheds its sweet. The air is full of scents and melodies, O languorous waltz! O swoon of dancing feet! Each flower, like a censer, sheds its sweet, The violins are like sad souls that cry, O languorous waltz! O swoon of dancing feet! A shrine of Death and Beauty is the sky. The violins are like sad souls that cry, Poor souls that hate the vast black night of Death; A shrine of Death and Beauty is the sky. Drowned in red blood, the Sun gives up his breath. This soul that hates the vast black night of Death Takes all the luminous past back tenderly, Drowned in red blood, the Sun gives up his breath. Thine image like a monstrance shines in me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LET ME NOT HATE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DEDICATION TO THE LATER SONNETS TO URANIA by GEORGE SANTAYANA THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 17. A LOVER'S PLEA by THOMAS CAMPION TO MY NOSE by ALFRED HENRY FORRESTER SNEEZING by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 23. LOVE'S BAUBLES by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |