Tell me if this be all true, my lover

Tell me if this be all true, my lover,

tell me if this be true.

When these eyes flash their lightning

the dark clouds in your breast make stormy answer.

Is it true that my lips are sweet

like the opening bud of the first conscious love?

Do the memories of vanished months

of May linger in my limbs?

Does the earth, like a harp,

shiver into songs with the touch of my feet?

Is it then true that the dewdrops fall

from the eyes of night when I am seen,

and the morning light is glad

when it wraps my body round?

Is it true, is it true, that your love travelled

alone through ages and worlds in search of me?

That when you found me at last, your age-long desire

found utter peace in my gentle speech

and my eyes and lips and flowing hair?

Is it then true that the mystery of the Infinite

is written on this little forehead of mine?

Tell me, my lover, if all this be true.