Two Songs

  From groves of spice, 
  O'er field or rice,
Athwart the lotus stream,
  I bring [for]1 you, 
  Aglint with dew,
A [little lovely]2 dream.

  Sweet, shut your eyes. 
  The wild fire-flies
Dance through the fairy neem;
  From poppy-bole
  For you I stole
A [little lovely]2 dream.

  Dear eyes, good-night,
  In golden light
The stars around you gleam;
  On you I press,
  With soft caress,
A [little lovely]2 dream.

My heart is like a singing bird
  Whose nest is in a watered shoot;
My heart is like an apple tree
  Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
  That paddles in a [purple]1 sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
  Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of [silk and down]2;
  Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
  And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
  In leaves and [silver]3 fleur-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
  Is come, my love, is come to me.