Give me thy hand, Beloved! Here where still
The night wind hovers 'neath the pallid moon
Give me this fleeting moment; all too soon
The listless day will break upon the hill;
This last sweet night is mine. The tremulous thrill
Upon thy lips is all the precious boon
I begged of Heaven, the garish sun of noon
Is theirs--the rest--mine is this moment's will.
Our love could never be the love of day.
I have not claimed the welcome of thy lips;
No touch save fluttering hand, and for the pay
I gave my minstrelsy of sea and sky.
Once more thine eyes! Now sun-stained finger tips,
Send through the hush of dawn a glad good-bye.