Ceaselessly, untiringly,

Till the black night is drowned

In an abyss of brown.

[27]

[27]

23

In love's afterglow, full of stars,

Those lilies of the river of night,

Sing no song, dear, speak no word.

The white noontide has ebbed into gold;

Shores-breaking seas cease to roar;

Lo! the moonrise of our soul.

Hardly a kiss, or the shadow of a caress;

No decking the hour with the jasmines of touch;

But a rose-petal shivering in exquisite agony—our love.

The weary sunset has grown wearier;

A vague lassitude encircles us twain,

As separation builds its pathway of tears.

Cease weeping, yet the saffron light lingers;

The stars throb in nebulous lustre,

 Prev. P 30/82 next