Put on thy beauty, foliage-vaulted roof, To greet her entrance, radiant all with grace; Ye branches weave a holy tent, star-proof; With lovely darkness, silent, her embrace; Sweet, wandering airs, creep through the leafy woof, And toy and gambol round her rosy face, When with its load of beauty, lightly borne, Glides in the fairy foot, and brings my morn. Hush! I hear timid, yet daring Steps that are almost a race! No, a bird--some terror scaring-- Started from its roosting place. Quench thy sunk torch, Hyperion. Night, appear! Dim, ghostly Night, lone loveliness entrancing! Spread, purple blossoms, round us, in a sphere; Twin, lattice-boughs, the mystery enhancing; Love's joy would die, if more than two were here-- She shuns the daybeam indiscreetly glancing. Eve's star alone--no envious tell-tale she-- Gazes unblamed, from far across the sea. Hark! distant voices, that lightly Ripple the silence deep! No; the swans that, circling nightly, Through the silver waters sweep. Around me wavers an harmonious flow; The fountain's fall swells in delicious rushes; The flower beneath the west wind's kiss bends low; A trembling joy from each to all outgushes. Grape-clusters beckon; peaches luring glow, Behind dark leaves hiding their crimson blushes; The winds, cooled with the sighs of flowers asleep, Light waves of odour o'er my forehead sweep. Hear I not echoing footfalls, Hither along the pleached walk? No; the over-ripened fruit falls Heavy-swollen, from off its stalk. Dull is the eye of day that flamed so bright; In gentle death, its colours all are dim; Unfolding fearless in the fair half light, The flower-cups ope, that all day closed their brim; Calm lifts the moon her clear face on the night; Dissolved in masses faint, Earth's features swim; Each grace withdraws the soft relaxing zone-- Beauty unrobed shines full on me alone. See I not, there, a white shimmer?-- Something with pale silken shine? No; it is the column's glimmer, 'Gainst the gloomy hedge of pine. O longing heart! no more thyself delight With shadow-forms--a sweet deceiving pleasure; Filling thy arms but as the vault of night Infoldeth darkness without hope or measure. O lead the living beauty to my sight, That living love her loveliness may treasure! Let but her shadow fall across my eyes, And straight my dreams exulting truths will rise! And soft as, when, purple and golden, The clouds of the evening descend, So had she drawn nigh unbeholden, And wakened with kisses her friend."