Four songs , opus 9

Go, Heliotrope,
Unto my Sweet and tell
How, like a harbinger of hope,
You come to dwell
Near her, and pray to rest
Upon her breast.
Tell her for me
In whispers of perfume,
How like the golden sun is she,
To which your bloom
Forever turns its face
Beseeching grace.
Say, even so
The blossom of my love
Looks from its land of doubt below
To her above,
Waiting one word to slip
Her scarlet lip.
Then if you feel
Her heart with joy beat fast,
Or if with one sweet kiss she seal
Your lips at last,
And leave you stricken dumb
Until I come:
Seeing you there
Upon her bosom, I
Shall know what answer to my prayer
She makes, and lie
Beside you dumb with bliss,
Sealed by her kiss.

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In the soft wind that blows, 
You cloudship of the sky
Spreads a white sail and throws 
A shadow where I lie. 

And with my dreams is blent
A breath of spice and gums
Out of the Orient,
Betraying whence she comes.

Unto a land remote
To fill its rich bazaars
Sails this Arabian boat
Amid the island stars.

And in yon harbor calm,
Of Heaven's ocean blue;
Empties her freight of balm
The twilight's fragrant dew!

She is false; O Death, She is fair!
Let me hide my head on they knee;
Blind my eyes, Dull mine ears; O Death!
She hath broke my heart for me!

Give me a perfect dream;
Find me a rare dim place;
But let not her voice come nigh,
And keep out her face!