Of old, on her terrace at evening br ...not here...in some long-gone kingdom br O, folded close to her breast!... br br --our gaze dwelt wide on the blackness br (was it trees? or a shadowy passion br the pain of an old-world longing br that it sobb'd, that it swell'd, that it shrank?) br --the gloom of the forest br blurr'd soft on the skirt of the night-skies br that shut in our lonely world. br br ...not here...in some long-gone world... br br close-lock'd in that passionate arm-clasp br no word did we utter, we stirr'd not: br the silence of Death, or of Love... br only, round and over us br that tearless infinite yearning br and the Night with her spread wings rustling br folding us with the stars. br br ...not here...in some long-gone kingdom br of old, on her terrace at evening br O, folded close to her heart!...