Chinese Lanterns.

Through the windows on the park                 Float the waltzes, weirdly sweet;             In the light, and in the dark,                 Rings the chime of dancing feet.                     Mid the branches, all a-row,                     Fiery jewels gleam and glow;                 Dreamingly we walk beneath,                     Ah, so slow!             All the air is full of love;                 Misty shadows wrap us round;             Light below and dark above,                 Filled with softly-surging sound.                     See the forehead of the Night                     Garlanded with flowers of light,                 And her goblet crowned with wine,                     Golden bright.             Ah! those deep, alluring eyes,                 Quiet as a haunted lake;             In their depths the passion lies                 Half in slumber, half awake.                     Lay thy warm, white hand in mine                     Let the fingers clasp and twine,                 While my eager, panting heart                     Beats 'gainst thine.             Bring thy velvet lips a-near,                 Mine are hungry for a kiss,             Gladly will I sate them, dear;                 Closer, closer, this, and this.                     On thy lips love's seal I lay,                     Nevermore to pass away;                 That was all last night, you know,                     But to-day             Chinese lanterns hung in strings,                 Painted paper, penny dips,             Filled with roasted moths and things                 Greasy with the tallow drips;                     Wet and torn, with rusty wire,                     Blackened by the dying fire;                 Withered flowers, trampled deep                     In the mire.             Chinese lanterns, Bernstein's band,                 Belladonna, lily white,             These made up the fairy-land                 Where I wandered all last night;                     Ruled in all its rosy glow                     By a merry Queen, you know                 Jolly, dancing, laughing, witching,                     Veuve Cliquot.