The Broken Wing/The Feast

​2. The Feast

Bring no fragrant sandal-paste, Let me gather, Love, instead The entranced and flowering dust You have honoured with your tread For mine eyelids and mine head.
Bring no scented lotus-wreath Moon-awakened, dew-caressed; Love, thro' memory's age-long dream Sweeter shall my wild heart rest With your foot-prints on my breast.
Bring no pearls from ravished seas, Gems from rifled hemispheres; Grant me. Love, in priceless boon All the sorrow of your years, All the secret of your tears.
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.