Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/123

 When will you have not a glance to give Of the love in whose lustre my glances live? When, O my darling, your fathomless eyes Have drawn all the azure out of the skies: Now I gaze and I gaze till they dare not rise.

When will you find not a single vow Of the myriads and myriads you lavish now? When your voice has gurgled the last sweet note That was meant from the nightingales to float: Now I whisper it, whisper it dumb in your throat.

When will you love me no more, no more, And my happy, happy dream be o'er? When no rose is red, and no skies are blue, And no nightingale sings the whole year through, Then my heart may have no love for you.

My Love o'er the water bends dreaming; It glideth and glideth away: She sees there her own beauty, gleaming Through shadow and ripple and spray.