The Invocation

Oh, if it’s true that in the night
When living men are sleeping,
And from the sky the pale moonlight
Slides over the gravestones,
Oh, if it’s only true that at that time
The silent graves open,
I call the shade of Leila and wait for her:
To me, my dear, come here to me!
Appear, my dearest one, appear
As I last saw you when we had to part,
Pale and cold as a winter’s day,
Your features twisted by your last agony.
Come to me, like a far-off star,
As softest sound or merest breath of wind,
Or like some dreadful apparition,
It’s all one to me, but come, come!...
My summons is not to reproach those
Whose malice killed my love,
Nor to unlock the secrets of the grave,
Nor even to assuage the doubts
That torment me... but in my grief
I long to tell you that I love you still,
That I am wholly yours: come to me, come!