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| I ATE at Ostendorff’s, and saw a dame | |
| With eager golden eyes, paired with a red, | |
| Bald, chilled, old man. Piercing the clatter came | |
| Keen Traümerei. On the sound he bowed his head, | |
| Covered his eyes, and looked on things long sped. | 5 |
| Her white fierce fingers strained, but could not stir | |
| His close-locked hands, nor bring him back to her. | |
| |
| Let him alone, bright lady; for he clips | |
| A fairer lass than you, with all your fire: | |
| Let him alone; he touches sweeter lips | 10 |
| Than yours he hired, as others yet shall hire: | |
| Leave him the quickening pang of clean desire, | |
| Even though vain: nor taint those spring winds blown | |
| From banks of perished bloom: let him alone. | |
| |
| Bitter-sweet melody, that call’st to tryst | 15 |
| Love from the hostile dark, would God thy breath | |
| Might break upon him now through thickening mist, | |
| The trumpet-summons of imperial Death; | |
| That now, with fire-clean lips where quivereth | |
| Atoning sorrow, he shall seek the eyes | 20 |
| Long turned towards earth from fields of paradise. | |
| |
| In vain: by virtue of a far-off smile, | |
| Men may be deaf a space to gross behests | |
| Of nearer voices; for some little while | |
| Sharp pains of youth may burn in old men’s breasts. | 25 |
| But—men must eat, though angels be their guests: | |
| The waiter brought spaghetti; he looked up, | |
| Hemmed, blinked, and fiddled with his coffee-cup. | |
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