Her eyes in the darkness shone, in the twilight shed <br />By the gondola bent like the darkness over her head. <br />Softly the gondola rocked, lights came and went; <br />A white glove shone as her black fan lifted and leant <br />Where the silk of her dress, the blue of a bittern's wing, <br />Rustled against my knee, and, murmuring <br />The sweet slow hesitant English of a child, <br />Her voice was articulate laughter, her soul smiled. <br />Softly the gondola rocked, lights came and went; <br />From the sleeping houses a shadow of slumber leant <br />Over our heads like a wing, and the dim lagoon, <br />Rustling with silence, slumbered under the moon. <br />Softly the gondola rocked, and a pale light came <br />Over the waters, mild as a silver flame; <br />She lay back, thrilling with smiles, in the twilight shed <br />By the gondola bend like the darkness over her head; <br />I saw her eyes shine subtly, then close awhile: <br />I remember her silence, and, in the night, her smile.<br /><br />Arthur Symons<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/venetian-night/
