O FLOWER OF ALL THE WORLD
O flower of all the world, O flower of all,
The garden where thou dwellest is so fair,
Thou art so goodly, and so queenly tall,
Thy sweetness scatters sweetness everywhere,
O flower of all!
O flower of all the years, O flower of all,
A day beside thee is a day of days;
Thy voice is softer than the throstle’s call,
There is not song enough to sing thy praise,
O flower of all!
O flower of all the years, O flower of all,
I seek thee in thy garden, and I dare
To love thee; and though my deserts be small,
Thou art the only flower I would wear,
O flower of all!
WAS IT SOME GOLDEN STAR?
Once in another land,
Ages ago,
You were a queen, and I,
I loved you so:
Where was it that we loved—
Ah, do you know?
Was it some golden star
Hot with romance?
Was it in Malabar,
Italy, France?
Did we know Charlemagne,
Dido, perchance?
But you were a queen, and I
Fought for you then:
How did you honour me—
More than all men!
Kissed me upon the lips;
Kiss me again.
Have you forgotten it,
All that we said?
I still remember though
Ages have fled.
Whisper the word of life,—
“Love is not dead.”
I HEARD THE DESERT CALLING
I heard the desert calling, and my heart stood still—
There was winter in my world and in my heart;
A breath came from the mesa, and a message stirred my will,
And my soul and I arose up to depart.
I heard the desert calling, and I knew that over there
In an olive-sheltered garden where the mesquite grows,
Was a woman of the sunrise with the star-shine in her hair
And a beauty that the almond-blossom blows.
In the night-time when the ghost-trees glimmered in the moon,
Where the mesa by the water-course was spanned,
Her loveliness enwrapped me like the blessedness of June,
And all my life was thrilling in her hand.
I hear the desert calling, and my heart stands still—
There is summer in my world, and in my heart;
A breath comes from the mesa, and a will beyond my will
Binds my footsteps as I rise up to depart.
THE FORGOTTEN WORD
Once in the twilight of the Austrian hills,
A word came to me, wonderful and good;
If I had spoken it—that message of the stars—
Love would have filled thy blood;
Love would have sent thee pulsing to my arms,
Laughing with joy, thy heart a nestling bird
An instant passed—it fled; and now I seek in vain
For that forgotten word.