Tell me, dear bird, O bird with breast of flame,
When true Love comes, how may I know his name?
What are the golden words upon his tongue:
What message sweeter than a seraph’s song?
Love hath no shibboleth, and where are words
For the enraptured songs of summer birds?
Tell me, dear Love, O bird with breast of flame,
The deepest sense and meaning of thy name?
Two all-sufficing souls for woe or bliss,
But what they do, or what their converse is,