Though ribboned light on mirrored walls such sheen
Of bright foam flung, as when flowers overlean
A river’s marge and dance at wind’s behest.
Outside within the night your lute-string trilled.
The yellow whirling ball-room floated far,
We stood together ’neath the morning star;
You reached a lilac branch with blossoms filled,
O’er me was flung its jewelled, fragrant rain—
“Love! clasp me close,” I cried,—“the dawn again!”