Stars of Eros.
The stars under my feet, the white country songs of
the marble sun morn the western flight in waves and
white robes and I see the other side with eyes of long
veils. There in the eastern cave of serene shades the
musk of Eros lingers in fair springs. O fair maid! O
little heart! Ever watchful and woeful in the folly of
spring!
I shiver in the starlight. Come, lily dreaming weeping
in the gentle rhyme of the breeze. The bride of Eros young
and wild, breasts kissed in golden stars. A flowery nest in
the passion of the woods. The mortals of magic treasures singing of nature
have lavish visions beautiful as birth.
O poor fool! Your sighs silent on the sea shore!
Maidens of attitude!
I melt into the wine of secret fountains. Alas! Harmony with the
stars above. O fainting heart! I quiver with hints of rose and blood
of grace. The heart high in sorrowful mood. My tongue in orchard
gold. Divine mother. Venus born of beauty! To know all things? The stars
dreaming on some eternal voice. O wisdom in the starless night! O forest
green and heaven bright.
