New York Nocturnes, and Other Poems — A Nocturne of Trysting

A Nocturne of Trysting Broods the hid glory in its sheath of gloom Till strikes the destined hour, and bursts the bloom, A rapture of white passion and perfume.

So the long day is like a bud That aches with coming bliss, Till flowers in light the wondrous night That brings me to thy kiss.

Then, with a thousand sorrows forgotten in one hour, In thy pure eyes and at thy feet I find at last my goal;

And life and hope and joy seem but a faint prevision Of the flower that is thy body and the flame that is thy soul.