Page:Myrtle and Myrrh.djvu/50

 The light of day is longing for thy face And the grace Of thy form; O how I wish to see thee, Noor-ul-Ain Caught again In the storm!

O, bleeding blossoms, tell, were my heart there— There in your bed, Would that sweet thief that stole you unaware Have stolen it instead? Come with me, scarlet salvias, to your home; We are not late; Love in the moonlight there again will roam— There let us wait. I still remember when one night she crowned Me with the stars Plucked from your scarlet sky—she would astound The kings of Mars. She then would slay me—wash the face of night With my bold blood— Ay, she would show that yours is not as bright And not as good. O, scarlet salvias, why should I refuse When I'm with you? Why should I chill my lady, if she choose To steal me too?