Come let us make love on this our bed ...

Among the dying flowers
Among their thorns;
Feel the stone that lies beneath,
Whereupon we may sit
In the quiet of the midnight hour.

It was born in the winters rain,
And died before the spring thaw
In the heat of the hot summer day
You left me; - I could not bid you stay
For autumn colors gold and orange
and of crimpsons flow.
I sit alone in the fires ember glow
He is gone away.

I long for you so,
But your eyes are fixed on your past,
Shadows-veile your secret desires,
Desires I shall never know.