Page:Three stories by Vítězslav Hálek (1886).pdf/127

 Come, sweetheart, ’tis the very hour,

For holiest prayer on bended knee,

The moon is rising o’er the tower,

Time flies—oh! loved one come to me.

Nay, do not clasp thy hands, my sweet,

But clasp me love as I clasp thee,

And ’stead. of hands—two hearts shall meet,

In prayer to heaven eternally.

Be lip to lip, love, thine to mine,

That from one mouth our prayers may rise,

I’ll breath the words, dear, into thine,

Thy breath shall waft them to the skies.

And thus our mutual prayer shall rise,

The purest truest sacrifice,

For thus united seraphs raise,

Eternal prayer, eternal praise.

Fair, passing fair, my Lord, is all

In love that’s o’er us beaming,

All lives for love and would dissolve,

In love’s poetic dreaming.

Yon cloudlet hastening o’er the skies,

Love’s messenger is wending,

The bird that’s dozing on the bough,

Still dreams of love unending.