WE are to play the game of death to-night, my bride and I. <br />The night is black, the clouds in the sky are capricious, and the waves are raving at sea. <br />We have left our bed of dreams, flung open the door and come out, my bride and I. <br />We sit upon a swing, and the storm winds give us a wild push from behind. <br />My bride starts up with fear and delight, she trembles and clings to my breast. <br />Long have I served her tenderly. <br />I made for her a bed of flowers and I closed the doors to shut out the rude light from her eyes. <br />I kissed her gently on her lips and whispered softly in her ears till she half swooned in languor. <br />She was lost in the endless mist of vague sweetness. <br />She answered not to my touch, my songs failed to arouse her. <br />To-night has come to us the call of the storm from the wild. <br />My bride has shivered and stood up, she has clasped my hand and come out. <br />Her hair is flying in the wind, her veil is fluttering, her garland rustles over her breast. <br />The push of death has swung her into life. <br />We are face to face and heart to heart, my bride and I.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/we-are-to-play-the-game-of-death/