Night Mist

A cold and passionless white mist

Creeps out of my heart

And twines itself about the moon,

And slipping down a silver ray

Turns into foam

To splash and rise again in glist'ning spray.

This spectre breath was born but late

When passion cooled,

Released his last salt waves within -

As when the sea looses her tide

Frees frantic waves

To play and splash in spray upon her side.

In and out among the clouds

It plays itself -

'Til finding one last burning star

Quenching the flame, and leaving instead

Cold ashes there -

It whispers to my heart that love is dead!