The question, though solemn, I ask now of Night,
"Will darkness lay ever apart?
Will breaking day's waking open, fragrant, the sky
and cradle, in reverence, my heart?"
The answer, with Nighttime's swift soul~baring glance
falls blow by deadening blow,
"You dare request now an answer to this
as if, in earnest, you did not know?
There can no longer rise the morning light,
there cannot wake, dead, the dawning.
Now leave me to my blackening task!"
Night turns away, still yawning.
And somehow to bed, I foolishly find
my way through my tearstreams' hot stinging,
to never more know the pound of his heart
and never, sweet, breathe to his singing.
How shall I live on in this now silent shade
with no symphonies, lilting and turning?
The words with which, gently, he captured my soul
and still of my heart are they yearning?
Moving off to fitfullest slumber I fall
with lessons of love to be heeding...
No more will I plead for Night's comforting call
when for my lover my heart is still bleeding.