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Table of Contents

Heart of mine, if all the altars

Of the ages stood before me,

Not one pure enough nor sacred

Could I find to lay this white, white

Rose of love upon. 5

I who am not great enough to

Love thee with this mortal body

So impassionate with ardour,

But oh, not too small to worship

While the sun shall shine—10

I would build a fragrant temple

To thee, in the dark green forest,

Of red cedar and fine sandal,

And there love thee with sweet service

All my whole life long. 15

I would freshen it with flowers,

And the piney hill-wind through it

Should be sweetened with soft fervours

Of small prayers in gentle language

Thou wouldst smile to hear. 20

And a tinkling Eastern wind-bell,

With its fluttering inscription,

From the rafters with bronze music

Should retard the quiet fleeting

Of uncounted hours. 25

And my hero, while so human,

Should be even as the gods are,

In that shrine of utter gladness,

With the tranquil stars above it

And the sea below. 30