  Like tears shed over a dream, Like sighs that stream In an unseen nameless way Into the heart of our lay. It seemed hour on hours, Years like fading flowers Scattered their petals and bloom In a half-lit forest of gloom. The softness of its sounds, Like the coursing of a million hounds Of dream over the glade of sleep Where tortured silences creep. Exquisite, pain-laden, peaceful, This night most beautiful, What love forsaken by loving Sets his heart a'singing? No torment in it, but tenderness; A liquid star-music of sadness Pours into my soul half asleep; While the willows at my window weep. |
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