Your scent is in the room. Swiftly it overwhelms and conquers me! Jasmines, night jasmines, perfect of perfume, Heavy with dew before the dawn of day! Your face was in the mirror. I could see You smile and vanish suddenly away, Leaving behind the vestige of a tear. Sad suffering face, from parting grown so dear! Night jasmines cannot bloom in this cold place; Without the street is wet and weird with snow; The cold nude trees are tossing to and fro; Too stormy is the night for your fond face; For your low voice too loud the wind’s mad roar. But oh, your scent is here--jasmines that grow Luxuriant, clustered round your cottage door! COMMEMORATION When first your glory shone upon my face My body kindled to a mighty flame, And burnt you yielding in my hot embrace Until you swooned to love, breathing my name. And wonder came and filled our night of sleep, Like a new comet crimsoning the sky; And stillness like the stillness of the deep Suspended lay as an unuttered sigh. I never again shall feel your warm heart flushed, Panting with passion, naked unto mine, Until the throbbing world around is hushed To quiet worship at our scented shrine. Nor will your glory seek my swarthy face, To kindle and to change my jaded frame Into a miracle of godlike grace, Transfigured, bathed in your immortal flame. MEMORIAL Your body was a sacred cell always, A jewel that grew dull in garish light, An opal which beneath my wondering gaze Gleamed rarely, softly throbbing in the night. I touched your flesh with reverential hands, For you were sweet and timid like a flower That blossoms out of barren tropic sands, Shedding its perfume in one golden hour. You yielded to my touch with gentle grace, And though my passion was a mighty wave That buried you beneath its strong embrace, You were yet happy in the moment’s grave. Still more than passion consummate to me, More than the nuptials immemorial sung, Was the warm thrill that melted me to see Your clean brown body, beautiful and young; The joy in your maturity at length, The peace that filled my soul like cooling wine, When you responded to my tender strength, And pressed your heart exulting into mine. How shall I with such memories of you In coarser forms of love fruition find? No, I would rather like a ghost pursue The fairy phantoms of my lonely mind. THIRST