VII.
As the king bird feeds on the heart of the bee,
So would I feed on the sweets of thee.
As the south wind kisses the leaf at will,
From the leaf of thy lips I would drink my fill.
As the sun pries into the heart of a rose,
I would pry in thy heart, and its thoughts disclose.
As a dewdrop mirrors the loving sky,
I would see myself in thy tear wet eye.
As the deep night shelters the day in its arms,
I would hide thee, dear, from the world's alarms.