And while we faltered, lo, a small voice came:
“O happy pair, with rosy forms aglow,
Here lie within the temple’s deep alcove
Sweet mysteries that I pant to have you know;
Wine that hath stained the trampling feet of Love,
And fruit that ripened in the sacred grove:
Break every seal, and let the purple flow.”
III.
I turned to seek my lady’s eyes, when lo!
The vision vanished, and I stood alone