The Argonauts

ACTUS QUARTUS 17 The night-winds kiss the deep: the stars Shed laughter from above; But night must pass dawn’s prison bars: Night hath not tasted love. With me the night is fallen in day; The day swoons back to night; The white and black are woven in gray, Faint sleep of silken light. A strange soft light about me shed Devours the sense of time: Hovers about my sleepy head Some sweet persistent rhyme. Beneath my breast my love may hear Deep murmur of the billows— O gather me to thee, my dear, On soft forgetful pillows! O gather me in arms of love As maidens plucking posies, Or mists that fold about a dove, Or valleys full of roses ! O let me fade and fall away From waking into sleep, From sleep to death, from gold to gray, Deep as the skies are deep !