When love upon the winds was vain,
The desert air its deathless tomb.
I loved the flower and said, “Alas!
’Tis sad to know such love must die,
Such sweetness with the mould must lie,
Such beauty into death must pass!”
I plucked the flower from off its stem
And said, “Sweet Flower! Life were Death
Without thy beauty and thy breath—
The heart must wither else for them.”