I know that were my soul tonight Strung to the silence of this room, I'd hear remembered footfalls light As wayward drift of lotus bloom.

Nor would it just be make-believe, Were I to find her in this chair, Or catch the rustle of her sleeve, Or note the glint upon her hair.

Say, would you blame me if I knelt To put faith to its enterprise— So surely must her touch be felt In liquid coolness on my eyes.

Now listen! If the veil should part Within this holy ritual, You'll hear a voice call to my heart More lovely than a madrigal.