He rises and begins to round,
He drops the silver chain of sound
Of many links without a break,
In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake,
By this he knew she wept with waking eyes:
That, at his hand's light quiver by her head,
The strange low sobs that shook their common bed
Were called into her with a sharp surprise,
On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.
Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend
Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened,
Where sinners hugged their spectre of repose.
Long with us, now she leaves us; she has rest
Beneath our sacred sod:
A woman vowed to Good, whom all attest,
The buried voice bespake Antigone.
'O sister! couldst thou know, as thou wilt know,
The bliss above, the reverence below,
Thus piteously Love closed what he begat:
The union of this ever-diverse pair!
These two were rapid falcons in a snare,
Condemned to do the flitting of the bat.
Ask, is Love divine,
Voices all are, ay.
Question for the sign,
There's a common sigh.
Night, like a dying mother,
Eyes her young offspring, Day.
The birds are dreamily piping.
A wind sways the pines,
Not a breath of wild air;
Still as the mosses that glow