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.
