Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/92

Rh

And murmured broken thanks the while, The soft blush brightening with a smile; Then bade him rest. Ah, looks like those Were never heralds of repose. He slept not; but the dreams that steep Such sweet unrest are more than sleep.

Night came—the deep and purple time Of summer in a southern clime. The curtains of the tent were swayed As the night wind among them played; And he could see the distant sky, Where stars in crowds uncounted lie: And all seemed bright excepting one; He fancied he could see it pale, As if forsaken by its sun, Its golden light began to fail.