I have carried thee a buried miracle in my soul of souls until this hour—when thou hast taken wings and flown out of me to confront me. Night, my Night, let me enter now into thy darkness until all life beats in vain outside the obscurity of my soul. I would vanish from myself. Night, my somber mistress, upon thy face my tears shine as stars and make thee more beautiful. Night, thou art infinity revealed. I will stir thy ancient fires on thy cold lips until thou willst thunder to me with thy hidden voices out of thy vast silence. Night, I open my heart to hear but I hear only my heart crying out. Speak. Beautiful one, I sing to thee for bringing me the madness of silence. I sing to thee, for thou art mine; for thou art fierce and pregnant with still wounds. Night. Behold! I know thee. I have seen the black flames of thy spirit that burn in the depths of thee. I have heard the murmuring music of thy tears. Thou art glorious. Come. Come, thou and I shall make of our sorrow rejoicing. Come, place thy long, cool fingers in mine and lead me beyond. Night! Night! Thy face is paling. Thou art stricken. Thou art treading silently away without me. Night—thou hast taken from me the pain of thy kisses. There hath come into thy deep eyes a weariness. Thou art dying. Thou art dying from my arms. The red glow of death burneth in thy face and is transforming thee. Night, where shall I find thee again? Where shall I seek thee? The dreadful day that is thy white shadow hath come. And a part of me hath died. Sleep Song I lay in a field of black flowers, and there were purple veins and green that floated like thin worms about me. There were soft thick shapes swaying liquidly, moving unseen, and I lay under them gripped by soft thick mists. Deep under them I lay hidden and they pulled me deeper into the field rolling softly around me. A sorrow that had pursued me in my soul left me as I vanished, left me and floated above the flowers. And I saw a white face drifting away like a pale bubble over the top of my black garden. A white face like a dim sorrow, like a mute pain, drifting far away; the white face of a dead love searching in vain for me, in vain. The day was a white monster, naked and bellowing; grinning after me with its buildings that were jagged rows of dirty teeth. There was no place to hide from my sorrow. It lay in the sky that winked at me like a vast and blue and relentless eye. And it lay in the sun that burned like a golden grotesque. It lay in every laugh and in every beauty and in every little bird that lost itself over the water. I felt the black flowers grow blacker and higher and I moved deeper into the blackness. And then a sorrow that had pursued me in my soul left me as I vanished. It floated away over the tops of the black flowers and I saw her white face moving from me like a pale bubble.