And in nights when I lay on the lonely sands
Stretching mine arms to thee,
Thou gavest me something--faint and vast and sweet,
Something ineffable, wistful, from far away,
Elsewhere--Beyond--

And thou wast kind to me in my times of love,
Cooling my lips
That my lover wore away,
While, wafting the scent from his divided hair,
Thou show'dst the stars between
Far away, and eclipsed by his burning eyes
Even the stars.

And now I almost foresee the place and the hour
When I shall open my dying lips to thee
And receive a last cool kiss.
Afterwards, Wind, since I have always loved thee,--
Whirl my dust to the scented heart of a moghra flower,
_His_ flower, but, ah, thou knowest,--
So often thy kisses have mingled with his and mine.