The Dream Of An Afternoon

Be silent! the ancestor arrives;

And his step dusks away again.

Shadows float up and down -

Birches hanging in the window.

And on the old vine-hill

The round dance of fauns romps anew,

And the slender nymphs rise

Quietly from the fountain-mirror.

Hear! A far thunderstorm threatens.

Incense steams from dark cresses,

Moths celebrate silent masses

Before decayed flower trellises.