| |
(From Last Poems, 1905)
NOW is the season of my youth, | |
| Not thus shall I always be, | |
| Listen, dear Lord, thou too art young, | |
| Take thy pleasure with me. | |
| My hair is straight as the falling rain, | 5 |
| And fine as morning mist, | |
| I am a rose awaiting thee | |
| That none have touched or kissed. | |
| |
| Do as thou wilt with mine and me, | |
| Beloved, I only pray, | 10 |
| Follow the promptings of thy youth. | |
| Let there be no delay! | |
| |
| A leaf that flutters upon the bough, | |
| A moment, and it is gone,— | |
| A bubble amid the fountain spray,— | 15 |
| Ah, pause, and think thereon; | |
| For such is youth and its passing bloom | |
| That wait for thee this hour, | |
| If aught in thy heart incline to me | |
| Ah, stoop and pluck thy flower! | 20 |
| |
| Come, my Lord, to the temple shade, | |
| Where cooling fountains play, | |
| If aught in thy heart incline to love | |
| Let there be no delay! | |
| |
| Many shall faint with love of me | 25 |
| And I shall slake their thirst, | |
| But Fate has brought thee hither to-day | |
| That thou shouldst be the first. | |
| Old, so old are the temple-walls, | |
| Love is older than they; | 30 |
| But I am the short-lived temple rose, | |
| Blooming for thee to-day. | |
| |
| Thine am I, Prince, and only thine, | |
| What is there more to say? | |
| If aught in thy heart incline to love | 35 |
| Let there be no delay! | |
| |
