Melancholy as the street light through the shades,
As a dancing black spider and her web intertwining.
Waiting through her dance,
To prance and dance throughout the night,
Waiting for my distant and deep slumber,
—And my closing eyes,
—And my dark breath of dust.
Lovely as the Sunday sun consuming all other lights,
And a songbird dancing in the gentle hand of the caressing wind.
Waiting through his dance,
To prance and dance throughout the day,
Waiting for this nearer, jostling new day,
—And my eye’s first glancing,
—And my waking – inhaling – first breath of life.