Each thought the other had nor sipped nor flung
The burning sense-wine tingling through each vein.
And so we sat and heard old ballads sung
With such child things throughout a night of rain;
Until a somehow smoldering poem rang
Through all my flesh. Sublimely without fear
Somehow that smoldering song I wildly sang!
And poured my wintry wine dregs full and clear.
It seemed a lighted radiance sought her face,
Till we were friends no more but strangely one;