Moon-love, star-love, the love of silver water.
The weeping face of love touched in the dark,
And murdered joy, lost souls of joy that caught her
A glow-worm's warmth and spark.
Birds of prey, invisible, now hover
About her midnights hammocked in unrest--
A moving shadow, faithless as a lover,
Is all her arms have pressed--
Too luminous the dreaming of the sleeper
Whose tears are prophecies and second-sight.
Has death no under-sea, no darkness deeper,
In which to satiate our need of night?