Night

p. 64

NIGHT

And now 'tis I who seek him. Each night I softly steal from out the house, and travel by a long and devious path unto his meadow, there to watch him sleep.

Sometimes I stay a long time, never speaking, happy just to see him; just to kiss his breath I bend my lips unto his own.

Then suddenly I stretch myself upon him. He wakens in my arms and cannot rise, for I resist him. He scolds and laughs and tightly squeezes me. Thus do we play in the night.

. . . The blush of dawn, oh, naughty glow on the horizon, you already! Within what cave forever night, upon what meadow underneath the ground, shall we be able, wrapped in love, to love so long that we should soon forget the memory of you. . .