As I must mount to feed those doves of ours, Perhaps you too will spend nocturnal hours Upon your roof So high aloof That from its terraced bowers We catch at clouds and draw a bath from showers. Before the moon has made all pale the night, Let's meet with flute and viol, and supper light : A yew lamb, minted sauce, a raisined bun, A melon riper than the melting sun— A flask of Xeres, that we've scarce begun— We'll try the « lunar waltz » while floats afar Upon the liquid night—night's nenuphar. Or else, with senses tuned alike perchance, Reclining love will make the heavens dance; And if the enemy from aerial cars Drops death, we'll share it vibrant with the stars!
Natalie Clifford Barney - 1876-1972
The Phantom Guest
We lay in shade diaphanous And spoke the light that burns in us As in the glooming’s net I caught her, She shimmered like reflected water! Romantic and emphatic moods Are not for her whom life eludes... Its vulgar tinsel round her fold? She'd rather shudder with the cold, Attend just this elusive hour, A shadow in a shadow bower, A moving imagery so fine, It must have been her soul near mine And so we blended and possessed Each in each the phantom guest, Inseparate, we scarcely met; Yet other love-nights we forget!