A lily in a twilight place? A moonflow'r in the lonely night?— Strange beauty of a woman's face Of wildflow'r-white! The rain that hangs a star's green ray Slim on a leaf-point's restlessness, Is not so glimmering green and gray As was her dress. I drew her dark hair from her eyes, And in their deeps beheld a while Such shadowy moonlight as the skies Of Hell may smile. She held her mouth up redly wan, And burning cold,—I bent and kissed Such rosy snow as some wild dawn Makes of a mist. God shall not take from me that hour, When round my neck her white arms clung! When 'neath my lips, like some fierce flower, Her white throat swung! Or words she murmured while she leaned! Witch-words, she holds me softly by,— The spell that binds me to a fiend Until I die.
Madison Julius Cawein
It was down in the woodland on last Hallowe'en,
Where silence and darkness had built them a lair,
That I felt the dim presence of her, the unseen,
And heard her still step on the hush-haunted air.
It was last Hallowe'en in the glimmer and swoon
Of mist and of moonlight, where once we had sinned,
That I saw the gray gleam of her eyes in the moon,
And hair, like a raven, blown wild on the wind.
It was last Hallowe'en where starlight and dew
Made mystical marriage on flower and leaf,
That she led me with looks of a love, that I knew
Was dead, and the voice of a passion too brief.
It was last Hallowe'en in the forest of dreams,
Where trees are eidolons and flowers have eyes,
That I saw her pale face like the foam of far streams,
And heard, like the night-wind, her tears and her sighs.
It was last Hallowe'en, the haunted, the dread,
In the wind-tattered wood, by the storm-twisted pine,
That I, who am living, kept tryst with the dead,
And clasped her a moment who once had been mine.