Bird, by her garden gate Singing thy happy song, Round thee the listening leaves Joyously throng. Tell them that yesternight Under the stars so bright, I wooed and won her!
Red rose, rejoice with me! Swing all thy censers low, Bid each fair bud of thine Hasten to blow. Lift every glowing cup Brimming with sweetness up, For—I have won her!
Wind, bear the tidings far, Far over hill and dale; Let every breeze that blows Swell the glad tale. River, go tell the sea, Boundless and glad and free, That I have won her!
Stars, ye who saw the blush Steal o’er her lovely face, When first her tender lips Granted me grace, Who can with her compare, Queen of the maidens rare? Yet—I have won her!
Sun, up yon azure height Treading thy lofty way, Ruler of sea and land, King of the Day— Where’er thy banners fly, Who is so blest as I? I—who have won her!
Oh, heart and soul of mine, Make ye the temple clean, Make all the cloisters pure Seen and unseen! Bring fragrant balm and myrrh, Make the shrine meet for her, Now ye have won her!
BAPTISM OF FIRE
Happy birds caroling love-songs, winds in the tree-tops at play, Earth, like an Eden, rejoicing in the beautiful gladness of May!
Over the mountains a splendor of crimson and amethyst swept: Gray mists stole up from the valley, the dense shadows after them crept.
Down the green aisles of the orchard, pink-white with the promise of bloom, Stood the apple-trees, wooing already the brown bees with wealth of perfume.