Breathe, evening wind of yesterday's lost truth,
Which brought us scents of flowers' last bloom phase;
Night fell with birds asleep in shaded maze.
The fragrant Spring has nothing on your youth;
The stars shone bright, but far less than your gaze.
My voice kept low. It was the solemn hour
When souls their gentlest hymns so love to sing.
As night is pure so are you beauty's power;
To gilded stars: on night the heavens shower!
And to your eyes: sweet love upon us bring!