And bless and blind me!
When stars are still and bright—
Love me by night.
In longing dreams I'll name thee;
In secret hours, when breathes the midnight rose,
Thy heart in mine shall close,
Great love shall claim thee:
O mine in dark and light,
In day and night!
MEMORY
Into this musing, Memory! thou hast brought
Me, thy true vassal; into this delight
That is more poignant for the haunting grief;
And as thou leadest on I follow, follow,
Down the deep, woody pathway of my dream,
Feeling the breath of flowers colorless
And airs that change their seasons as I wander,
Falling or cool or warm upon the brow.
The river shimmers 'twixt the shadowy boles;
Scarce seen the stars for the high, monstrous leaves
That make a lovers' screen; while the large moon,
Late risen, sends three beams athwart the path.
It is not night, nor day, it is the time
Of the clear spirit's life; the soul's high noon;
The hour most fit for passion's holy birth.
O mellow eve, unstartled by a bird!
O night whose light is deepening up the sky!
'T was such a night when one low-murmured word,—
A word all miracle,—made of my soul
Naught but a singing rapture.
