"You sit on the bed there
In the sunset's full crimson,
Pillows crumpled,
Looking distracted,—what
Troubles you?"

⁠"Oh, swept by
⁠Transparent
⁠Gold cataracts,
⁠The fir-tree tops
⁠Loom athwart the sky's blue."

"Orphaned, alone, I shall
Languish,
Through summery
Twilights and Winter nights.
There are new flights, but
Try them I dare not.
Oh, do not die!"

⁠"Oh, above the pines
⁠I float off into æther seas.
⁠Who, there, what, there,
⁠Swathes the sky with whitenesses,
⁠As with vestments of silver?"