DOWN the narrow Calle where the moonlight cannot enter, The houses are so high; Silent and alone we pierced the night's dim core and centre -- Only you and I. Clear and sad our footsteps rang along the hollow pavement, Sounding like a bell; Sounding like a voice that cries to souls in Life's enslavement, "There is Death as well!" Down the narrow dark we went, until a sudden whiteness Made us hold our breath; All the white Salute towers and domes in moonlit brightness, -- Ah! could this be Death? |