Page:Le Tombeau de Théophile Gautier, 1873.djvu/181

And hear we not thy vords of molten gold
Singing? or is their light and heat acold
     Whereat men warmed their spirits? Nay, for all
These yet are with us, ours to hear and hold.

The lovely laughter, the clear tears, the call
Of love to love on ways where shadows fall,
     Through doors of dim division and disguise,
And music made of doubts unmusical;

The love that caught strange light from death’s own eyes,
And filled death’s lips with fiery words and sighs,
     And half asleep let feed from veins of his
Her close red warm snake’s mouth, Egyptian-wise;

And that great night of love more strange than this ,
When she that made the whole world’s bale and bliss
     Made king of the whole world’s desire a slave,
And killed him in mid kingdom with a kiss;

Veiled loves that shifted shapes and shafts, and gave,
Laughing, strange gifts to hands that durst not crave,
     Flowers double-blossomed, fruits of scent and hue
Sweet as the bride-bed, stranger than the grave;

All joys and wonders of old lives and new
That ever in love’s shine or shadow grew,
     And all the grief whereof he dreams and grieves,
And all sweet roots fed on his light and dew;