| That wooing air that wiles the red rose forth |
|
|
| That absolute love which many women feel |
|
|
| Without it, marble-templed cities reaching |
|
|
| With it, the air we breathe intoxicates |
|
|
| Lo, song and sleep I love. For song's susurrus |
|
|
| Anacreon's tettix, singing in the trees |
|
|
| Is life a dream, and death a sleep, and love |
|
|
| No: I shall pass into the Morning Land |
|
|
| I shall behold it: I shall see the utter |
|
|
| And you may see me, if you pass this way |
|
|