Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal, Now the White

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;

Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;

Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:

The firefly wakens: waken thou with me.

 

Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,

And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.

 

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves

A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

 

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,

And slips into the bosom of the lake:

So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip

Into my bosom and be lost in me.