Poor soulless elf of the garden of roses!
Shall I pray for King Laurin at Vesper-toll?
They say no prayers in the rosy garden
Where life is the flash of a fragrant flame
Like the heart of a flower on fire: the whole
Of forbidden sweet is the rosy garden
I may not think of and feel no shame.
For in King Laurin's garden of roses
Waking thought shall be stilled asleep,
And the still heart dream itself half-awake ...