To a Passer-by
Around me thundered the deafening noise of the street,
In mourning apparel, portraying majestic distress,
With queenly ringers, just lifting the hem of her dress,
A stately woman passed by with hurrying feet.
Agile and noble, with limbs of perfect poise.
Ah, how I drank, thrilled through like a Being insane,
In her look, a dark sky, from whence springs forth the
hurricane,
There lay but the sweetness that charms, and the joy that
destroys.
A flash then the night. . . . O loveliness fugitive!
Whose glance has so suddenly caused me again to live,
Shall I not see you again till this life is o'er!
Elsewhere, far away ... too late, perhaps never more,
For I know not whither you fly, nor you, where I go,
O soul that I would have loved, and that you know