58
Soft my breath doth pass
Soft as April airs;
Jasmine-sweet the grass
Springeth from my tears.
Desert tulip glows
With the blood I shed
As in beaker shews
Wine all ruby-red.
Soareth so my flight
Oer the highest sphere
That the souls of light
Seek to trap me there.
Labours ever new
Make mans dust to glow;
Moon and star still do
As long time ago.
My selfs lamp I lit,
Now that Moses hand
Men have hidden it
Neath the wristlet-band.
Come, O come to prayer;
Court no princes door:
So our fathers were
When the world was poor.