The Soul of Osiris

32 THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. So she, my bride, my queen, So virginal, so keen, Swoons, while the moon-rays lean To fan their silver ship. No sleep, but precious kisses In those pale wildernesses, Mark the dead hours of night, No sleep so sweet as this is, Whose pulse of purple blisses Beats calm and cool and light. No life so fair with roses, No day so swift to close is ; No cushion so reposes Fair love so sweet and slight. Sleep greets the morn and takes us ; The wood that wonders makes us Soft noises heard above. The sunny snake forsakes us, The noon sun lastly wakes us, To watch the wooing dove ; And day draws on delighted To leave us there benighted, Once more divinely plighted In perfect moon of love.