Love’s Translator

When the white moon divides the mist,
My longing eyes believe
’Tis the white arm my lips have kissed
Flashing from thy sleeve.

And when the tall white lily sways
Upon her queenly stalk,
Thy white form fills my dreaming gaze
Down the garden walk.

When, rich with rose, a wandering air
Breathes up the leafy place,
It seems to me thy perfumed hair
Blown across my face.

And when the thrush’s golden note
Across the gloom is heard,
I think ’tis thy impassioned throat
Uttering one sweet word.

And when the scarlet poppy-bud
Breaks, breathing of the south,
A sudden warmth awakes my blood
Thinking of thy mouth.

And when that dove’s wing dips in flight
Above the dreaming land,
I see some dear, remembered, white
Gesture of thy hand.

Wonder and love upon me wait
In service fair, when I
Into thy sweetness thus translate
Earth and air and sky.