Then he ceased:--and his eyes--how they glistened!
His eyes, that were haunted with pain,
With longing and beauty and pain:
And again he cried out, "Oh, that music!
That proud and that perilous music!
O God! for that tyrannous strain,
To which in my dreams I have listened,
Ah, God! I have listened in vain!"
And he tossed on the mantle of satin
His deep raven darkness of hair;
And the song at her lips was ungathered,
And she sat there to marvel and stare;
Like marble, to wonder and stare.