  At last thou comest; Thy footsteps I hear across the ages, Over wandering fancies, Through shadows of dreams Is thy coming, Queen of queens. This shimmering summer of life That thou bringest with thee As a gift to my silent waiting Is but what I prayed to bring To the altar of thy coming. I spread the seat of my soul, For thee to rest thy tired limbs; And wave the fan of my heart To cool thy lotus-shaming face, Lady of light, queen of grace. Come to my bower of worship, Where burns the incense of devotion, Lay thy rose-robed body In the shrine of my longing, Where love's rainbow-songs are ringing. |
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