Chopin'S Funeral March

The keyboard black and white; Shadow-Light the Evening's scale; Half silent the voice of thy singing. Quiver the notes in pain; Exquisite, sad, the melody at thy touch; Like the silver arrow of Desire Piercing the Soul's golden heart.

The room is lost in dark. The ivory keys, white fringe Of a music long since mute; Yet, in the black night Tremble and toss notes Unheard, undreamt,--like sleep Sleepless, and waking full of smart.

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In the golden afterglow you lay, When the emerald moon Made thin silver fog-veils For the bride of night, Whose saffron-sandled feet Walked the foam-strewn floor of the sea. In my arms you listened To words of love Poured by the infinite heaven of my heart, Echoed by the endless symphony of the sky. Your silent gaze, Deeper than the song of the sea, Farther than the moon, Nearer than your own heart-beat, Asked mine for speech. "What can my love say At this sad sacred hour?" Hour of parting this! Love's ever-feared moment, Longing's much-dreaded end, Yet no voice sorrows in our being, No woe dims the moon-face tonight. Between the sheltering dunes and fading light On an aerial couch lying, Adorned in kiss-woven garments of nudity Our spirits garlanded with myriad embraces, Borne on passion's flaming wings Cross this ocean of parting Unto that far island of Cythera Where only love reigns In eternal majesty.

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