The warm winds touch the bands
That hold her hair.
The call of a silver horn floats by,
A lover tosses flowers into her hands.

Maura dreams unwakened--
She joins the maidens in their dance,
Her limbs follow slow rhythms,
A lover leads her into the shade,
She moves as in a trance.

II

What dim confusion
Troubles her dream,
What passionate caress
Disturbs her spirit's rapt seclusion?

Earth draws her close. How warm
Is lover-earth! Like a sleeping bird
She gives herself, then suddenly
She is a leaf whirled in the storm.

Somewhere in a quiet room, her soul unstirred,
Dead... or sleeping,
Through the blind tumult hears afar
The note of a horn, like a silver thread.
She has given her soul to an echo's keeping.

III