Woo me not tonight, O my lover
Not tonight--for my soul is not here!
My soul is a moth
And the dusk is my lover.
In the hush of the shadows
We tryst, and we listen--
To the far blown secrets of night.
O fragrant-blown secrets!
They are hid in the petals of moonflowers,
In the low, singing rhythm that stirs through the leaves,
In soft, elfin laughter,
And in the whirring of bats' wings.
Little star-birds are splashing
Their silver feathers in puddles of dew.
There is a gold bowl in heaven,
Half-tipped, and spilling its honey
In long, luscious streaks upon the black grass;
And we sip
Until we are steeped in it,
Until we are faint with it,
With the beauty and sweet of it--
O bear with the heavy-winged vagrant
My moth-soul, my lover;
Woo me not tonight,