Sweet hour of Night, within thy solitude— Thy wandering sleep and silent course advanced In realms occult—and overruling power, I met a woman, angel pure and like A dove in tint and melody, her wings Unfolded on nocturnal sands—through air allured To solitary caves and darker woods. We strolled a-near a cool rillet—background A garden kiosk canopied in flowers, 'Twixt grottoes dimly glittering with a shelly floor. The Night's eclipse of phantoms, dreams, and rest Was stirred and lit in mystic parts by touch Of stars and lidless eyes of moon. The silver Stream laughed out aloud—then played a song Keyed high upon such rippling undercurrents, As waked the fairies from the bank and glen. Our thoughts were written on the velvet sheen, And through the fringes of the forest shone An after-glow which crept to vibrant harmonies. O'er-hanging shadows, silent, vast and fragrant With perfumes, wafted strangely near, in half-awed Dreamy moods, 'mid tangled vines and brush: Above the shooting stars and destined spheres Were strayed in limitless oblivion. Carelessly we kissed with soft caress, Our spirits gliding from tranquility, While round us weaved a thousand gentle forms, In binding chains of complex passions rife. The dance of twin lights from intensest eyes, A thought suppressed—then mingling of the breath, Glowing and glowing, and closer and still more close— All visions lost to me in Happiness. Night's silver canopy of clouds unrolled, Shredded and flown adown to tree tops high; Then whispered Love along the fretted shore, From o'er the waves of future heritages. |