Viennese waltz

We are so tired, and perhaps tomorrow

Will never come; be fugitive awhile

From tears, and let the dancing drtnk your sorrow

As it has drunk the colour of your smile.

Your face is like a mournful pearl, my darling;

Go, set a rose of rouge upon its white,

And stop your ears against the tiger-snarling

Where lightning stripes the thunder of the night.

Now falling, falling, feather after feather,

The music spreads a softness on the ground;

Now for an instant we are held together

Hidden within a swinging mist of sound.

Forget these frustrate and unhappy lovers;

Forget that he is sad and she is pale;

Come, let us dream the little death that hovers

Pensive as heaven in a cloudy veil.