THE GARDEN
Beside me in the shadowy garden of my dwelling stands my Well-Belovèd, clad in a perfumed saffron tunic and shod with gilded sandals. His arm rests lightly upon my shoulders, his eyes are bright with laughter.
I move softly beneath the gold-encircled arm, and sigh:
—I love thee.
—I love thee because I know thee well and because thou knowest me. From thy caress comes only happiness . . . And when mine eyes meet his, he smiles.
My hair is golden as the sun; mine eyes are jewels; my lips are dew-kissed flowers. I know—for many have told me. I stand in the star-lit garden of my dwelling and raise mine arms and laugh and sigh. And, as the great moon rises in the east, a song trembles upon my lips—a song of joyous understanding; of all desire fulfilled.
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