The dark trees slept, none to the azure true,

Save where alone, the glory of the glade,

The cone of one tall cypress cut the blue

And azure on the marble dreamed its shade:

As long as I could feel it next to mine

Her body was illumined by my ghost,

As through the silver of the lighted host

Might flush the ruby reflex of the wine.

The night ran like a river deep and blue:

The reeds of thought, with humming silver wands,

Brushed by our silence like a fleet of swans,

Sang to the passing wave their faint adieu.

Stars in that current quenched their dying flame

Like folding flowers: till down the silent streams,

Swan-drawn among the lilies, slumber came,

Veiling with rosy hand the lamp of dreams.