Passion Flowers (Watson)/Passion Flowers

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Passion Flowers.
Oh! tremulous blossom, wind-blown and a-quiver, With tenuous tendrils responsive and fine;There's a subtile suggestiveness vague and bewildering, Exhaled on the breath of your mystical vine.
How palpitant, pulsing, empurpled, your petals, How clinging, caressing, and fragrant your touch,Like the pressure of lips that departing still linger While half way confessing they've loved overmuch.
Do you guess, dimly, down in your heart, Virgin Blossom, That the loves of a life are its most precious dower,And yet that full oft they are transient and fleeting, And fragile and short-lived as you, Passion Flower?
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It is true; but my passionate heart's all a-quiver With love—love supreme—which, I vow, shall endure,Till the worlds and the suns and the mad circling planets Again are but chaos—eternal and pure.

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