Dreaming, I said, “When she is come,

This desert garden that is me,

For her shall offer mellowly

Its myrrh and its olibanum—

When she is come.

“The flowers of the moon for her,

With blossoms of the sun shall bloom,

The fading roses breathe perfume,

The lightly fallen petals stir,

And sigh to her.

Each little leaf makes visible,

Shall enter there, or like the spell

(Upon the lulling leaves divined)

Of silent wind.”

Alas! for she is come and gone,

And in the garden, green for her,

The flowers fall, the flowers stir

Only to winds of night and dawn:

For she is gone.