I walked through a Forest, beneath the hot noon, 
On Etheline calling and calling! 
One said: ?She will hear you and come to you soon, 
When the coolness, my brother, is falling.? 
But I whispered: ?O Darling, I falter with pain!? 
And the thirsty leaves rustled, and hissed for the rain, 
Where a wayfarer halted and slept on the plain; 
 And dreamt of a garden of Roses! 
 Of a cool sweet place, 
 And a nestling face 
 In a dance and a dazzle of Roses. 
In the drought of a Desert, outwearied, I wept, 
O Etheline, darkened with dolours! 
But, folded in sunset, how long have you slept 
By the Roses all reeling with colours? 
A tree from its tresses a blossom did shake, 
It fell on her face, and I feared she would wake, 
So I brushed it away for her sweet sake; 
 In that garden of beautiful Roses! 
 In the dreamy perfumes 
 From ripe-red blooms 
 In a dance and a dazzle of Roses.