This mad carnival of loving,
This our heart's intoxication
Ends at last, and we twain, sobered,
Yawningly look each on each.
All the luscious cup is drained
That was filled with sensuous juices,
Foaming to the brim, enticing,
All the luscious cup is drained.
And the violins are silent,
That so sweetly played for dancing,
For the giddy dance of passion--
Yes, the violins are silent.
And the lanterns are extinguished,
That with gorgeous light illumined
All the motley troop of maskers--
Yes, the lanterns are extinguished.
And to-morrow comes Ash-Wednesday,
I will draw upon thy forehead
Then an ashen cross, and murmur,
Woman, thou art dust--remember!