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TONIGHT there shall be lighted here no tapers,
but a sheaf of still wet flowers that shake in frailness
Shall light thy chamber--where thy tender paleness
Shall like a dream be drowned in white gauze vapours.


That we may breathe a bliss without alloy,
On the sad piano where the flowers shake
Play thou a song of angels' hearts that ache,
And I shall swoon into a tranc├Ęd joy.


So we will love, mute and austere. Save this,
That sometimes on thy slender hand a kiss
Shall be the drop that overflows the urn.


Sister! And in the skies that o'er us bend
The chaste desire of passion taciturn
Shall slowly like a silver star ascend.