Four songs from The garden of Kama

Just in the hush before dawn
A little wistful wind is born.
A little chilly errant breeze,
That thrills the grasses, stirs the trees.
And, as it wanders on its way,
While yet the night is cool and dark,
The first carol of the lark,—
Its plaintive murmurs seem to say
"I wait the sorrows of the day."

This passion is but an ember
  Of a Sun, of a Fire, long set;
I could not live and remember,
  And so I love and forget.

You say, and the tone is fretful,
  That my mourning days were few,
You call me over forgetful —
  My God, if you only knew!

Give me your self one hour; I do not crave
  For any love, or even thought, of me.
Come, as a Sultan may caress a slave
  And then forget for ever, utterly.

Come! as west winds, that passing, cool and wet,
  O'er desert places, leave them fields in flower
And all my life, for I shall not forget,
  Will keep the fragrance of that perfect hour!

You are my God, and I would fain adore You
  With sweet and secret rites of other days.
Burn scented oil in silver lamps before You,
  Pour perfume on Your feet with prayer and praise.

Yet are we one; Your gracious condescension
  Granted, and grants, the loveliness I crave.
One, in the perfect sense of Eastern mention,
  "Gold and the Bracelet, Water and the Wave."