Tell me, oh my tranquil friend, How absence of a day untuned And brought our song of love to end, And wakened every sleeping wound. I go to meet all those that come From out that land of mystery Where thou did'st go toward the red sun-rise; Beneath a tree I sit, and cold and dumb, Down the long road spy eagerly; And long I look with fervour on the eyes Still lustrous with the sight of thee; I'd kiss those fingers, for thy touch less wearisome; I'd utter words whose meaning none perceive; But, dumb, I listen, hear their footfalls reach The shadows where the aged eve Holds the black night in leash. XXI In those hours when we seem shut out From all that is not part of us, What cleansing flood is it, so nebulous, That bathes and circles our two hearts about? Joining our hands, without a prayer, Arm to arm, without a cry, Seeking we know not what nor where, Something far off, more pure than thou or I-- Thou fervent soul, oh say How does one live in this yearned-for day? In those high hours how deep doth grow our will In front of life's supremacies! What need of other heavens still, Wherein with newer gods to cope! What anguish and what ecstasies, And what unflinching hope To be, one day, Through death itself, the prey Of these far silent agonies! XXII Oh, this happiness, Sometimes so rare, so frail, It brings us near distress! In vain we strive, as our hearts fail, To make for us a screening tent With all thy wondrous hair To shelter us from care-- Yet deep within does anguish still ferment. But love, a kneeling angel prays, Asking alone for this, That Fate may give to others equal days Of tenderness and bliss. And on those stormy days when evenings share With highest heaven all their cruel despair, We seek forgiveness as the night unrolls-- Forgiveness for the sweetness in our souls. XXIII Oh, let us live out love with all our powers, Aspire audaciously in thoughts most high, That they may interweave in harmony In the supremest ecstasy of ours. Because within our twined souls Something more pure than aught in us, More sacred, mightier, unrolls-- Join we our hands, and let us seek it thus. What matters it that naught but tears, Our halting speech avail For that whose puissant beauty, as it nears, Doth make our two hearts quail? Oh, may we thus forever meet Love's stern, ensweetened pains, Kneeling, by fervour overcome, Before the sudden god within that reigns, So violent and so burning sweet, Our very souls succumb. XXIV