Prothalamion

Now a gentle dusk shall fall Slowly on the world, and all The singing voices softly cease And a silence and great peace Cover all the blushing earth Free from sadness as from mirth While with willing feet but shy She shall tremble and draw nigh To the bridal chamber decked With darkness by the architect Of the seven starry spheres And the pit’s eternal fires Of the nine angelic choirs And her happy hopes and fears. Then this magic dusk of even Shall give way before the night— Close the curtains of delight! Silence is the only song That can speak such mysteries As the earth and heaven belong When one flesh has compassed these.