I Have Loved Flowers That Fade,
Within Whose Magic Tents
Rich Hues Have Marriage Made
With Sweet Unmemoried Scents:
A Honeymoon Delight-–
A Joy Of Love At Sight,
That Ages In An Hour-–
My Song Be Like A Flower!
I Have Loved Airs That Die
Before Their Charm Is Writ
Along A Liquid Sky
Trembling To Welcome It.
Notes, That With Pulse Of Fire
Proclaim The Spirit’s Desire,
Then Die, And Are Nowhere-–
My Song Be Like An Air!
Die, Song, Die Like A Breath,
And Wither As A Bloom;
Fear Not A Flowery Death,
Dread Not An Airy Tomb!
Fly With Delight, Fly Hence!
‘Twas Thine Love’s Tender Sense
To Feast; Now On Thy Bier
Beauty Shall Shed A Tear