Our first embrace dost thou so soon forget ?
How pale thou wast, when my wing grazed thy hair.
Into mine arms thou f ell'st, with eyelids wet !
Oh, in thy bitter grief, I solaced thee.
Dying of love, thy youthful strength outworn.
Now I shall die of hope — oh comfort me !
I need thy prayers to live until the morn.
POET.
Is it thy voice my spirit knows,
darling Muse ! And canst thou be
My own immortal one ? my rose.
Sole pure and faithful heart where glows
A lingering spark of love for me ?
Tes, it is thou, with tresses bright,
'T is thou, my sister and my bride.
1 feel amidst the shadowy night,
From thy gold gown the rays of light
Within my heart's recesses glide.
MUSE.
My poet, take thy lyre. 'T is I, undying.
Who seeing thee to-night so sad and dumb,
Like to the mother -bird whose brood is crying,
From utmost heaven to weep with thee have come.
My friend, thou sufferest ; a secret woe
Gnaws at thy life, thou sighest in the night.
