You bless me, then you turn away your head—
“Never again, dear. I have blessed you so,
My lips upon your lips; between must flow
The river—Oh the river!” Thus you said.

The river—Oh the river, and the sun;
Stream that we may not cross, sun that is joy:
Flow as thou must; shine on in full employ—
Shine through her eyes thou; let the river run.

O lady, to your liegeman speak. You say:
“Dream no more dreams; yourself be as am I!”
Your hands clasped to your face, so shutting out the day.

An instant, then to me, your low good-bye—
Good-night, good-bye; and then the social reign,
The lights, the songs, the flowers—and the pain.