Page:Poems Kimball.djvu/256

IV.

expectancy.

Summer, rain me a rain of rose-leaves;
 Only on rose-leaves she shall tread!
Summer, rain me a rain of rose-leaves
 Over the banquet Love hath spread.

Never Orient feast so splendid,
 Viands so costly, wines so rare;
Never showers of bloom descended
 Veiling a princess half so fair!

Summer, make her a couch of roses,
 Pillows of rose-leaves lightly prest;
Odors sweet when my Love reposes
 Dreamily drifting round her rest!

Come, Belovèd, the feast awaits thee:
 Cruelly traitor moments flee!
Is it sorrow or joy belates thee?
 Heedest thou aught unshared by me!

Coming! O rapture more than mortal!
 Softly the gates o bliss unclose;
Silence, guarding the sacred portal,
 Wears in her breast the symbol rose!