Page:Last Poems.djvu/107

 Ah, Wind, thou hast given me lovely things, The scent of a thousand flowers, And the heavy perfume of pollen-laden fields, Strange snatches of wild song from the heart of the dark Bazaar That thrilled to my very core, Till I threw the sheet aside and rose to follow,— But whither, or what?

Also, Wind, thou broughtest the breath of the sea, The sound of its myriad waves. And in nights when I lay on the lonely sands Stretching mine arms to thee, Thou gavest me something—faint and vast and sweet, Something ineffable, wistful, from far away, Elsewhere—Beyond—

And thou wast kind to me in my times of love, Cooling my lips That my lover wore away, While, wafting the scent from his divided hair, Thou show'dst the stars between Far away, and eclipsed by his burning eyes Even the stars.

And now I almost foresee the place and the hour When I shall open my dying lips to thee And receive a last cool kiss. Afterwards, Wind, since I have always loved thee,— Whirl my dust to the scented heart of a moghra flower, His flower, but, ah, thou knowest,— So often thy kisses have mingled with his and mine. 95