to pierce the silken sable night…
Beneath the gentle lunar smile
maenads dance with graceful shadows,
spinning fast and weaving light,
a rude and tasteless gravity;
breathless covered creeping darkness
cast effortless aside
buried secret tears and lies.
Weeds burst into thirsty flowers,
heads thrust back,
to swallow evening showers.
Softly green and crawling mosses,
crowned in solemn halos,
choirs sing in saintly echoes;
truth, a whispered evening kiss,
cradled in her warm abyss.