“O SISTER, sister, from the casement leaning,
What sees thy tranced eye, what is the meaning
Of the strange rapture that thy features know?”
“I see,” she said, “the sunset's crimson glow.”
“O sister, sister, from the casement turning,
What saw'st thou there save sunset's sullen burning?
— Thy hand is ice, and fever lights thine eye!”
“I saw,” she said, “the twilight drifting by.”
“O sister, oft the sun hath set and often
Have we beheld the twilight fold and soften
The edge of day — In this no mystery lies!”
“I saw,” she said, “the crescent moon arise.”
“O sister, speak! I fear when on me falleth
Thine empty glance which some wild spell enthralleth!
— How chill the air blows through the open door!”
“I saw,” she said, “I saw” — and spake no more.