by Luis G. Dato
I will not sigh to you in starry night,
When songs, like flowers, clamber your stone walls,
That, in my stranger loneliness of heart,
For you the dreaming of the spirit calls,
I will not whisper to your love’s word,
Nor take the flowers that caressed your feet,
I would not stain the lily of your faith,
Words would be bitter, which would, were sweet.
And so, for rather, that I mused the thirst
That, with the poisonous of a dream, would rise,
Than find in you a coldly unbelief,
Or smiles that hide the language of your eyes.
I will be silent in our ways apart,
And, unrepining, with the drift of years,
Wait ’till love’s years should find its other name,
Or, faith, awakened scald your lips with tears.