Irradiations: II

Gaunt sails--bronze boats of the evening--
Float along the river where aloft
Like dim swans the clouds die
Softly.

I am afraid to traverse the long still streets of evening;
For I fear to see the ghosts that stare at me
From the shadows.
I will stay indoors instead and await my wandering dream.

She is about me, fluid yet, and formless;
The wind in her hair whispers like dim violins:
And the faint glint of her eyes shifts like a sudden movement
Over the surface of a dark pool.

She comes to me slowly down the lost streets of the evening,
And their immutable silence is in her feet.
Let no lamps flare--be still, my heart--hands, stay:
For I would touch the lips of my new love with my lips.