AMBERGRIS 
23 
 
 
 
FROM MYSTERIES 
 
Beside the River 
 
Rain, rain in May.  The river sadly flows, 
A sullen silver crossed with sable bars, 
Damp, gloomy, shivering, while reluctant stars, 
Between swart masses of thick clouds that close, 
Drive with drooped plumes their wing’d cars 
Towards sleep, the scythe of woes. 
 
Woes, woes in Spring.  Ere summer deepeneth 
The pink of roses to a purpler tint ; 
Ere ripening corn shafts back the sudden glint 
Of sunshine that brings healing with the breath 
Of western winds that sign, they hint 
Of sleep, twin soul with death. 
 
Death, death ere dawn.  The night is over dark ; 
Trees are grown terrible ;  the shadows wan 
Make shudder all the tense desires of man ; 
No gleam of moonlight bears the golden mark 
Of sunny lips, nor shines upon 
Our sleep—Love’s birchen bark. 
 
Love, love to-night.  To-night is all we know, 
Is all our care ;  lips joined to lips we lie, 
Tender hands touching, hearts in tune to die, 
With willing kiss reluctant to let go ; 
So sweet love’s last enduring sigh 
For sleep, so sure, so slow. 
 
Sleep, sleep to-night.  Our arms are intertwined ; 
Breath desires breath and hand imprisons hand ; 
Breezes cool faces, rosy with the brand 
Of long sweet kisses ;  sun shall dawn and find 
Two lovers who have passed the land 
Of sleep—and found Death kind.