Chapter XVII

That love within our eyes may be
Uttered with all clarity;
Oh, let us cleanse our looks from those
That chose
The way of life's brutality.

The dawn has flowered in red and gold,
Strange softened light
And mist;
It seems as though some tender down of gold
And silver through the twilight kissed,
With dim caresses, all our garden-ways;
Our mysterious lake displays
Its trembling sheen of golden light;
Beneath the trees swoon birds in emerald flight;
And dawn, from off the gloomy plain, the hillside steep,
Doth sweep
The last grey ashes of unwilling night.