THE JASMINE FLOWER
The fragrance sweet of a jasmine flowerEnticed me once in a mystic hour,—I needed no help but a climbing vineTo enter that garden of pale moonshine,—O, the climbing vine and the pale moonshine.
The odorous breath of a jasmine flowerCan carry me back to that night and hour,—For in the garden a vision fairOf a lovely lady was lying there,—Oh, the vision fair that was lying there.
Oh, was she asleep or was she dead?She was lying there with the flowers for a bed,—Her long hair swept her from head to feet,—No garment beside but the fragrance sweetOf the jasmine flower and the witching hour.
It was years ago and now I knowThat the vision which set my heart aglowWas no mortal sight in the pale moonlight—
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