Night was done. We rose and after Washing, dressing,—kissed with laughter,— After all the sweet night knows. Lilac breakfast cups were clinking While we sat like brothers drinking Tea,—and kept our dominoes. And our dominoes smiled greeting, And our eyes avoided meeting With our dumb lips' secrecy. "Faust" we sang, we played, denying Night's strange memories, strangely dying, As though night's twain were not we. |