Where is your sighing lullaby?
Last night strings
Played the mystic tune.
Usually desire sings
The words beneath the mystic moon.
The tempo is usually slow,
Like flames running across a stream,
The flames not certain which way to go,
Like perfume drifting through a dream,
A dream with dreams by you and I.
The words were immediate, not a test;
We listened and listened, and got no rest;
You were stranger, lover, and guest,
Someone I dreamed to know
Even as I moved by your elbow
And heard the sigh in your sigh.
The earthly tones conveyed unearthliness;
This perfume was one of your own;
A love was melodiously confessed—
You and I roaming to a mystic home
Where dripping love is welcome
And love in love is best.
