O Queen of Beauty

O Queen of Beauty, who hast conquered kings,

O woman wonderful, in pity be

Most merciful to one who softly sings

Thy matchless glory; yea, to one who brings

His broken songs, sung but in praise of thee.

I am the prisoner of thy two eyes!

Roses nor lilies breathe a sweeter breath

Than thou, when Dawn's great minarets arise.

Thy breath is like a breeze from Paradise,

Yet languorous with the mystery of Death!

The Pleiades, which thro' the darkness blaze,

From thy great orbs have filched their wondrous light.

Only the stars, with their undying rays,

Shall make a necklace like a golden haze

To hang about thy throat, O woman white!