not be?) to meet and thank her deliverer in a twilight which
would veil her confusion, the whole night became one dream-realm
of joy, the central form of which was everywhere present,
although unbeheld. Then, remembering how my songs seemed to have
called her from the marble, piercing through the pearly shroud of
alabaster--"Why," thought I, "should not my voice reach her now,
through the ebon night that inwraps her." My voice burst into
song so spontaneously that it seemed involuntarily.

"Not a sound
But, echoing in me,
Vibrates all around
With a blind delight,
Till it breaks on Thee,
Queen of Night!

Every tree,
O'ershadowing with gloom,
Seems to cover thee
Secret, dark, love-still'd,
In a holy room
Silence-filled.

"Let no moon
Creep up the heaven to-night;
I in darksome noon
Walking hopefully,
Seek my shrouded light--
Grope for thee!