With smile so sulf'rous, so bright,
One needs not stars, nor sun, nor candle to
Light the sky: dark, dreary, dampened, ashened;
One glance quickened, made with haste, only that
Is necessary to enliven thick,
Humid air; each glance, each trumpet sounding.
Golden instruments shining could use not
Enough blasphemous air to fill th'earth with
A noise so fair: each ivory instrument
'Neath rose-red lips satiates my hungry
Gaze; within moments gone: Ah! My heart has
Been lost; fate determined; soul stole like Faust.

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