Heliotrope

Go, Heliotrope,

Unto my Sweet and tell

How, like a harbinger of hope,

You come to dwell

Near her, and pray to rest

Upon her breast.

Tell her for me

In whispers of perfume,

How like the golden sun is she,

To which your bloom

Forever turns its face

Beseeching grace.

Say, even so

The blossom of my love

Looks from its land of doubt below

To her above,

Waiting one word to slip

Her scarlet lip.

Then if you feel

Her heart with joy beat fast,

Or if with one sweet kiss she seal

Your lips at last,

And leave you stricken dumb

Until I come:

Seeing you there

Upon her bosom, I

Shall know what answer to my prayer

She makes, and lie

Beside you dumb with bliss,

Sealed by her kiss.