Fourth Opal

We were alone: the perfumed night, Moonlighted, like a flower Grew round us and exhaled delight To bless that one sweet hour.

You stood where, 'mid the white and gold, The rose-fire through the gloom Touched hair and cheek and garment's fold With soft, ethereal bloom.

And when the vision seemed to swerve, 'T was but the flickering shine That gave new grace, a lovelier curve, To every dream-like line.

O perfect vision! Form and face Of womanhood complete! O rare ideal to embrace And hold, from head to feet!

Could I so hold you ever--could Your eye still catch the glow Of mine--it were an endless good: Together we should grow

One perfect picture of our love!... Alas, the embers old Fell, and the moonlight fell, above-- Dim, shattered, vapor-cold.