Beneath the stars, the moon, the blackest night sky, I sit, well fed indeed.
Roxane: And when that moment comes to you and me—
What words will you? ...
Cyrano: All those, all those, all those
That blossom in my heart, I'll fling to you—
Armfuls of loose bloom! Love, I love beyond
Breath, beyond reason, beyond love's own power
Of loving! Your name is like a golden bell
Hung in my heart; and when I think of you,
I tremble, and the bell swings and rings—
"Roxane!" ... along my veins, "Roxane!" ...
All small forgotten things that once meant You—
I remember last year, the First of May,
A little before noon, you had your hair
Drawn low, that one time only. Is that strange?
You know, after looking at the sun,
One sees red suns everywhere—so, for hours
After the flood of sunshine that you are,
My eyes are blinded by your burning hair!
—Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac