Round the sun's cloud-centered ball. Then through scents of herb and soil, To the mining-camp we turned, In the twinkling dusk discerned With its white-washed homes of toil. Ah, those nights!--We wandered forth On some haunted mountain path, When the moon was late, and rathe The large stars, sowed south and north, Splashed with gold the purple skies; And the milky zodiac, Rolled athwart the belted black, Seemed a path to Paradise. And we walked or lingered till, In the valley-land beneath, Like the vapor of a breath Breathed in frost, arose the still Architecture of the mist: And the moon-dawn's necromance Touched the mist and made it glance Like a town of amethyst. Then around us, sharp and brusque, Night's shrill insects strident strung Instruments that buzzed and sung Pixy music of the dusk. And we seemed to hear soft sighs, And hushed steps of ghostly things, Fluttered feet or rustled wings, Moved before us. Fire-flies, Gleaming in the tangled glade, Seemed the eyes of warriors Stealing under watching stars To some midnight ambuscade; To the Indian village there, Wigwamed with the mist, that slept By the woodland side, whence crept Shadowy Shawnees of the air. When the moon rose, like a cup Lay the valley, brimmed with wine Of mesmeric shade and shine, To the moon's pale face held up. As she rose from out the mines Of the eastern darkness, night Met her, clad in dewy light 'Mid Pine Mountain's sachem pines. As from clouds in pearly parts Her serene circumference grew, Home we turned. And all night through Dreamed the dreams of happy hearts. A Confession These are the facts:--I was to blame: I brought her here and wrought her shame: She came with me all trustingly. Lovely and innocent her face: And in her perfect form, the grace Of purity and modesty. I think I loved her then: 'would dote On her ambrosial breast and throat, Young as a blossom's tenderness: Her eyes, that were both glad and sad: Her cheeks and chin, that dimples had: Her mouth, red-ripe to kiss and kiss. Three months passed by; three moons of fire; When in me sickened all desire: And in its place a devil,--who Filled all my soul with deep disgust, And on the victim of my lust Turned eyes of loathing,--swiftly grew. One night, when by my side she slept, I rose: and leaning, while I kept The dagger hid, I kissed her hair And throat: and, when she smiled asleep, Into her heart I drove it deep: And left her dead, still smiling there. Lilith Yea, there are some who always seek The love that lasts an hour; And some who in love's language speak, Yet never know his power.