Over the fountains, over the pavements where A street girl saunters idly, trailing Her lacy skirts with a flirtatious air -- Plunged through the topaz clouds the moon is sailing, Like the moon's shadow, slipping through the dark And leafy boulevard, a warm-hearted ghost Smiles at the clinging lovers in the park And tries to speak; but then his words are lost. The earth exiles him, and the stretching sea Denies to him the winds from her billows rising; But sharper pain: an old tryst's memory, Musky with moments of love's improvising; And sharpest loss: the touch of a silken breast That drugged his torment, lulled his heart to rest. |