Conversation upon the Fall

Musing slight in which is wanton
wear, she speaks no sound
in slumbered sleep; by and by
her cheek falls flat to frown upon the night:

“If to-night I choose not that blackish night
with his ‘mare-ish haunt and lore,
but bloom the day with petals soft,
then surely spring one second more?”

“Bring thou petals;
see them dead by ‘morrow.
For be no instance in your light
without my staunch and Blackish Night.”