Xxv

That nothing may elude our close embrace, This depth of holy love, That through the body love be clear with grace, I seek with thee the garden of our love. Thy breast is there, an offering, Thy hands reach out to me, Naive and tender whispering Is breathed and heard by thee. The shadows from the branches now O'er thy throat and visage pass, Thy hair has spread its blossoms low In garlands, on the grass. All blue and silver broods the night, A silent, sleeping bed, this hour-- Sweet night! whose breezes one by one deflower The lilies trembling in the low moon's light.