THE TOURIST
He saw the hula flower in her hair
Drop to her bosom where it rose and fell:
Forgotten was her lover; her slow stare
Felt for his eyes; her warm body's smell—
The yellow-stamen perfume on her breath,
The poison heavy sleepiness of death
Made all her figure's slender golden grace
Seem like a censer in an altared place.
Drop to her bosom where it rose and fell:
Forgotten was her lover; her slow stare
Felt for his eyes; her warm body's smell—
The yellow-stamen perfume on her breath,
The poison heavy sleepiness of death
Made all her figure's slender golden grace
Seem like a censer in an altared place.
Swinging she danced the hula and the moon
Hung on the mountain honeying the night:
Her dress of flowers whirled about her—strewn
Along the grass the fire-petals died.
Then like a bat against that disc of light
Leaped up her lover, and the lonely wide
Hollow and shadow echoed as he cried.
Hung on the mountain honeying the night:
Her dress of flowers whirled about her—strewn
Along the grass the fire-petals died.
Then like a bat against that disc of light
Leaped up her lover, and the lonely wide
Hollow and shadow echoed as he cried.
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