When rose the moon, and far away
A nightingale beneath the tower,
Heard through the fountain's falling spray,
Made lonelier yet that lonely hour;
And 'twixt the nodding grove and lake
A glimmering fawn stalked through the night,
And snuffed the wind, then bent to slake
Its thirst; she veiled her face,--as white
As death's,--and said: "The way is clear!
There is no use in waiting here!
Come! let me cure this heart that bursts!
This pain is more than I can bear!--
Come! let me still this soul that thirsts!...
Upon the lake, as thick as stars
In heav'n, the lilies lie asleep.--
There lies a way beyond these bars,
These walls of flesh that hold and keep!
The nightingale shall find its mate,
The fawn its fellow, and must I,
The spouse of grief, the wife of hate,
Live on alone until I die?--
How long, how long, O God, to wait!"...
Far through the darkness went her cry.